Ai No Kusabi Black Moon Rising
by ElegantPaws
Summary: Enemies make the strangest of all bedfellows.
1. Chapter 1

Title:**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws **with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern **

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze** and who knows there is the sacred couple!

Rating: **Mature **

Parts:**WIP – 1 **of **5**

_Reviews are fuel._

_This gift is dedicated to__** A_ngua **__and I hope it pleases._

**Chapter 1 of 5 - Black Moon Rising** (Post OVA)

**~~~BMR~~~**

It was a rare occurrence indeed for Katze to be chauffeured, though he could well afford the luxury and then some. Tonight he indulged in being ferried from the pristine splendor that was Tanagura's towers of power to the slums of Midas for this meeting.

Quite the contrast he thought, rolling the window down a fraction allowing the pungent scent of free running sewage, unwashed bodies and death, ever present, secreted in corners yet hidden.

Narrowed eyes, of the most unusual hue, contemplated the twin moons of Amoi which graced the midnight sky. Their glow as always, constant, benevolent and entirely indifferent to the spectacle below and the furtive movements of Ceres unnamed, uncared for denizens who preferred the cover of night for their predation.

Those many years as Iason Mink's Furniture had taken their toll beyond the telltale scar well hidden on his cheek by rich, thick auburn hair. He thumbed the scar absently. Once a raised and angry gash from ear to stubborn jaw line now nothing more than a line of demarcation, a constant reminder of his own emancipation of sorts.

The black market boss slumped back into the plush comfort of worn leather allowing the vistas to pass beyond smoked windows while he contemplated his next move and the coming meeting with Guy, Bison's de facto leader.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Sometimes there were inherent disadvantages to being the Syndicate leader's second in command, foremost confidante and friend. This was one such instance, Sir Raoul Am, mused ruefully, internally bemoaning his plight as he left the _Party_ in hot pursuit of that overly opinionated and far too smart for his own good mongrel.

Katze had a bearing and intellect beyond his station.

Iason, of course, had been oblivious. The going's on of his household staff held no interest for Jupiter's most favored child.

It would seem to Sir Am this had always been the way. There was something about the red-head that had set his teeth on edge. Obedient to a fault, he would give him that. Still, there was that lingering look he would give, when he thought himself unobserved, that left no doubt as to his true nature and strength of will; a will that needed to be broken, in Raoul's opinion.

Dark green eyes twinkled coldly recalling the night when Katze had irretrievably overstepped his bounds. To think the use of a com unit had proved the red-head's undoing.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Katze idly noted the car slowing and his partially open window rising as a protective measure. Crashing glass, loud shouts and the hiss of hover bikes revving in unison, brought Katze from his own internal musings as he watched the crowded walkway move en mass towards the din, like lemmings.

He tapped the separation and it slid down with a quiet hum, revealing the driver, who was already on the com, providing information for the security detail of Midas.

Leaning forward, he waited for Stee to finish with the logistics. Katze folded long arms across the pane that separated them and casually glanced at the rear view with a smirk.

"Mr. Katze, as you see, there appears to be an obstruction ahead. Want me to take a different route to the club?"

A wry smile curved pale, full lips. "Nah, we're _all_ due some entertainment, Stee," the red-head chuckled motioning towards the rear windscreen. As Katze anticipated the former Pet flinched, recognizing the Syndicate crest of the car not two lengths behind.

The wholly incongruous, sedately resplendent sedan stood out like a sore, ungloved thumb in the poorly lit streets of the slum. Katze eased his long limbs back and lit a cigarette.

"How typically, Elite, Sir Am," he murmured, turning fully to acknowledge the occupants of the steel gray vehicle while tapping his phone and placing it against his ear.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Forgiveness, compassion and empathy were not traits Jupiter chose to instill in its genetically engineered castes. These highly emotive and wholly objectionable aspects of the human animal's nature had long outlived their usefulness, even for the dregs that roamed the streets of Ceres and served as fodder.

Kill or be killed was the rule of the days and nights here.

Some pretense of order had to be made of course, while culling the herd of the more obstreperous amongst them, but none too much. In fact, the more cunning members of Midas' citizenry had the rare privilege of serving as ground forces to the Elite within the society.

A passion for murder and a basic need to bully was requisite.

Katze checked his watch and began to count under his breath, expertly flicking the butt into the open paneled ashtray in front of him.

"Brace yourself, Stee," and then as an afterthought he added, "Defense shield."

These words had barely left his lips when the martial sound of booted feet and primed lasers fired into the frantically fleeing crowd of onlookers. The car rocked from the percussive blasts that hit full force then evaporated upon contact with the holographic shield, illuminating the occupants within.

**~~~BMR~~~**

He was completely out of his element and Katze knew it.

Raoul could count on one elegantly gloved hand the times he had been to Ceres, including this one. The last time, unfortunately, being two years before in an equally clandestine meeting with the black market broker. One had to be honorable, even to the lowest of the low.

The phone buzzed irritably and the foremost scientist of Amoi continued to ignore it, on principle. They had been spotted, not that Sir Am was trying to escape detection, exactly, but the utter front of the mongrel in advising him to have his driver raise shields was beyond bearing.

"The bloody cheek of …"

"Sir Am?"

"Raise shields, _if_ you haven't already."

"Yes, Sir Am."

The Blondie's artfully draped lock of honey gold hair shimmered in the flash of lights without as his windscreen was tapped respectfully amidst the din that slowly faded leaving the street eerily quiet where both cars were still parked.

He knew those long, tapered fingers, anywhere.

Raoul's eyes narrowed in contempt. Even the Ex-Furniture's refined and quite naked hands irritated him. It was unseemly the way he used them at times.

"Now what…" he shook his head and huffed irritably, extending one elegant, gloved digit to release the door.

He intended to give the mongrel a piece of his mind, now that the general excitement was apparently over for the evening. Iason would also feel his displeasure later.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Guy's bright gray eyes opened wide as a face familiar to him was thrust against the shielded window of Black Moon.

The shocked eyes of an adversary's pleading for help as he took his final gasp and red gore gushed from his trembling lips, hints of pink tissue spattering his mouth.

"Fuck," Luke looking away and swigged his stout, just a bit shaken by the sight.

"Lung blood," Guy offered dispassionately before raising his tankard in mock salute and grinned maniacally at the bloody trail left in the body's wake.

The guard lifted his visor and superficially checked the current state of the fresh corpse with a kick to the ribs before moving on to his next victim further up the street, leaving the body to curved figures who moved forward out of the darkest recesses and efficiently, quietly, picked the body clean of valuables.

"We should've taken bets tonight on the body count."

Guy's handsome, dark features grew stony as he turned to face the rag tag members of what was left of his gang. Bright, vaguely psychotic eyes, scrutinized those slouched against the plush booth, most half cocked in varying states of drug or alcohol induced stupor.

Bison's leader snarled in warning.

"Katze wouldn't approve, Guy. That's his territory," Luke slurred chalking his cue before downing the last of his stout and looking for the attending furniture for a refill. "We don't need him on our ass."

Luke had spoken out of turn.

The brunette smiled and cracked his knuckles threateningly, tossing a wealth of dark, chestnut hair over broad shoulders.

"Come 'er, Luke."

Guy's sudden rages were legendary. He was going to take it out on someone and it looked to be Luke.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Raoul was not buying it for a minute. Not the smooth, masculine register that rang pleasantly in his ears, nor the modest downcast eyes, and certainly not the artfully bowed head as though still in service.

"It is safe now, Master Am."

"What is the meaning of this, Katze?"

The Elite noted with satisfaction the thinning of well curved lips into thin slits and mild tension in the stubborn, pale jaw line.

"If you would be so kind as to follow me to _my_ club, we can discuss this further without prying eyes?"

Raoul's saturnine features registered the artfully inclusion of possession and pride in the statement.

"And why would I want to do that, Katze?"

"Then why are you here…_Sir._ If not _sent _by my former Master?

It was not lost on the Blonde Elite, how long it took the red-head to add the honorific, however sibilantly. Katze stepped back, allowing a decent amount of space between their bodies.

Raoul rose from the vehicle and towered over the lithe, expensively dressed male whose intriguing eyes were still veiled beneath thick auburn lashes.

"Look at me, Katze."

Their discrepancy in height and breadth pleased the golden Elite as he leaned down close to the red-head's ear.

Raoul's warm breath ghosted across his neck; the unintended intimacy sending involuntary spasms down the ex-furniture's spine. It unnerved Katze to realize how much he craved touch, any touch, even that of a most despised enemy who took every opportunity to remind him, in no uncertain terms, he was nothing.

Katze closed his eyes as cool, clean silken strands brushed his scarred cheek.

"Watch _that_ tone, _**Furniture**_. Technically, you are no longer a possession of your former Master, but that does not give you carte blanche to challenge your betters, regardless of favors done in the past."

A gloved hand meandered, over lean, taut hips and eventually found purchase with a low masculine chuckle.

"You are mongrel and damaged goods at that."

The hand fondled him clinically, achieving the desired result.

"You got your reward, don't push it. You're too old to be of any real value or anyone's Pet."

Katze watched as the self-possessed being walked on ahead of him toward the club, entirely unhindered as those about him scattered in justifiable fear. It was never a good thing when a Blondie made an appearance in the slums of Midas. Death always followed.

The red-head's jaws tightened in impotent fury as he crushed the barely open pack of cigarettes in his pocket and followed, dutifully.

"Bastard…" he ground out between clenched teeth, more angry with his body's betrayal than anything else.

**~~~BMR~~~**

**Author's Note**

Well, that is part one. I hope you enjoyed. See you exceedingly soon. Let me know what you think.

Namaste

**ElegantPaws**


	2. Chapter 2

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws **with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern **

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze** and who knows there is the sacred couple!

Rating: **Mature **

Parts:**WIP – 2 **of **5**

_Reviews are fuel._

_This gift is dedicated to__** A_ngua **__and I hope it pleases._

**Chapter 2 of 5 – Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered** (Post OVA)

~~~BMR~~~

Raoul's speculative gaze roamed lazily about the second level office space of the black market dealer where he had been abruptly left to his own devises to wait while Katze dealt with Bison. The Blondie wanted to take offense but could not voice it under the circumstance.

Emerald eyes took in the Spartan yet exquisitely appointed space with its bank of holographic monitors on the far wall that afforded an excellent view of the main club below and the adjoining rooms. The man had a thing for dove gray by the looks of things.

"Pretentious, unimaginative…" the Elite cocked his head in query, acute hearing picking up something other than the low thrum of equipment.

It was faint, but definitely a melody, almost somnambulistic in its mesmerizing delicacy and cadence. He looked to the com's controls for confirmation of what he already knew. All the monitors were set to mute; the pretext, according to the clever little mongrel, so as not to disturb Sir Am while he waited.

"Likely story," the Elite drawled, continuing to look about him for the possible source. He casually strolled about the office, examining and subconsciously filing away the placement of items within the space with supercilious indifference. There was nothing here that gave a hint as to the slum rat's origins. Then again it didn't really matter, he told himself. This was merely an exercise to stave of boredom while he awaited the report to come at which point he could return to Eos and take a long, leisurely bath duly prepared by his own Furniture.

The Blondie's curiosity was piqued though by the soft trill which, now that he focused, seemed to be coming from beyond the holographic displays. Though instinctively he knew this was the one room not apparently monitored, he grew furtive and on silent feet he approached the holographic bank and examined it with keen eyes. The music was emanating from it without question. A gloved hand tentatively reached out to trace the seam that gave way with the slightest pressure, revealing a thin shaft of light from a hidden space beyond the faux wall.

A slow malevolent grin touched his lips in victory.

"Katze…you _devil_. What have we here?"

The Elite's deep green eyes grew hooded in anticipation as he pressed forward in vicious delight; a delight short lived.

It was often said that the vagaries of Fate were such that it oft times gave you _exactly_ what you asked for, but at a very steep price. That price could, however, be exacting and irrevocable.

~~~BMR~~~

Guy's deal had ceased to be of interest for the red-head as his phone gave a warning buzz in lieu of a silent alarm. Someone had entered _his_ private space. The bile in his gut rose almost choking the bar's owner in anger; he felt impotent in every sense of the word. There was nothing he could do.

Fiery amber eyes closed momentarily in fatigue and resignation as Katze tried to come to grips with the unforeseen while cold sweat coursed down his back. He felt naked. With luck, Raoul's inherent sense of superiority would staunch his curiosity and he would have left as quickly as he came.

The red-head knew better. Fate had only deigned to give him reprieve once.

Raoul had always hated him for some unknown reason and enjoyed discrediting the young furniture at every turn.

Katze signed in memory as he lit another cigarette, barely acknowledging the attendant as more stout arrived and Guy continued to drone incessantly, unaware his audience was pre-occupied with memories of his former life.

Even then Sir Am had gone out of his way to find fault with everything Katze did in service. The black market dealer knew full well, Raoul Am was not above creating falsehoods just for the joy of watching his Master's chastisement at private Elite functions in the penthouse in front of the Pets he cared for; a further blow to an already fragile ego

A wry smile came to the handsome, aquiline face as he blew out smoke and nodded perfunctorily where necessary.

"And how many credits would you require upfront?" he added.

He had gathered the gist of the conversation well enough; just another deal that would probably find Guy or members of his motley crew at the other end of a force whip to Iason's satisfaction and Riki's misguided pleas for mercy.

"Those two will be the death of me," he added, stubbing out the butt in the fresh ashtray.

Guy's pale eyes looked somewhat confused at the non-sequitur.

"Amoi to Katze, man, are you even listening to me?"

Startlingly beautiful amber turned from its inner musings.

"No…not really, let's meet up tomorrow. Your crew," he waved a listless hand about. "are welcome for the next two hours. Do not touch any of the '_entertainment_' in the salon. They are for _paying_ customers."

A half smile played about thin lips as Bison's leader gave a long meaningful look to his fellow mongrel before pushing back his seat violently and stood threateningly over the more willowy, less powerfully built male.

"You're no better than me, despite your airs. It's just luck why you ended up serving _him _and lining your pockets legally."

The black market dealer's eyes travelled lazily over the newly acquired arm sported by Bison's leader, at his expense. It was still markedly smaller in muscle mass, but getting there.

"Enjoying that arm, are you?"

It was enough. Guy's face went white beneath his tan, reflexively making a fist with the aforementioned arm before turning and heading to the billiard room to join his gang.

Katze chuckled mirthlessly and lit another Black Nocturne while eyeing the street beyond the window before raising his eyes to the moons in the sky; pale, pristine in their beauty, cold and indifferent. So like the Elite of myriad caste.

His smile broadened at the antiquated names taken from their ancient home, Earth and given to the rulers of Amoi. Representations of prized jewels once deeply coveted; Onyx, Ruby, Jade, Sapphire, and more to mind, Platina. One of which had found his own secret. Katze often wondered, privately, what perverse thrill the second in command got from these incidents of cruelty other than the physical signs of the punishments exacted upon his person.

He closed his eyes. This was far worse than the night Iason had caught him at his com delving into the secrets of Amoi and its founding fathers so many centuries before.

Luck indeed.

Curiosity had almost killed Katze that night as a swift and powerful arm with the strength of twenty froze mid air and a cool and calculating look came into those pale blue eyes as they assessed the damage done to the young furniture holding his bloody cheek.

A solution had presented itself to the Syndicate leader in that moment. He had finally found a public face to do his biding in the underworld of Midas.

Katze uncoiled himself from the booth and rose to meet his Fate. There was always a price for the most minute of freedoms.

~~~BMR~~~

There were many adjectives that came readily to mind when thinking of the quietly diffident, inordinately clever and delicate, almost fragile of features, mongrel.

Sensual was not one of them.

In truth the Elite had anticipated, with malicious glee, finding something illicit. Oh the triumph had he found anything Katze's silent partner was not privy to. It would have been an instant passport to death or better, a swift visit to his offices and a purge. He would delight in handling it himself. Nothing but a rag doll would be left, mindless and devoid of that sentient gaze that housed hidden and rather disturbing depths.

This was untenable. The soft bedding of jeweled tones and rich textures of delicate make suitable for an Elite of ultimate refinement and costly beyond measure. Raoul girded his indignant loins and entered the room, swiftly removing a glove without thinking.

Narrowed eyes looked about the room refusing to find purchase, becoming more and more frantic in hopes of finding a flaw. Eyes the colour of emeralds glowed with anger and confusion. The musical piece soared now resplendent in its appropriateness engendering peace in the soft ambient light designed for rest.

This was Katze.

Raoul blinked while long tapered fingers, of their own volition, touched the velvety material of the bedding in tactile wonderment. His eyes closed enjoying the soft feel beneath his fingers. A delicate scent permeated the air that he could not identify at first as it had not been there before.

This too was Katze.

~~~BMR~~~

The former furniture had not lost his skills of silent presence in the seven years since his servitude under Master Mink and so he watched with rapt attention, the subtle shifts in mood of the Blondie's features in discovery.

Anger and solitude had long been Katze's friends and allies and they abandoned him swiftly as he watched with growing sadness and a new sense of pathos the mighty Sir Raoul Am well beyond his depths and incapable of understanding the intrinsic human need for comfort, despite breeding and origin.

It was his expression as he sat at the furthest corner of the bed that held sway with the former furniture and retrieved so simple an object as a night shirt and raised it to his nose with an unexpected reverence.

To a facile mind this was invasion, but Katze was in no way simple and the years of abuse, direct or otherwise, were unraveled in that singular act.

~~~BMR~~~

**Author's Note:**

Okay, so I lied. Not willingly mind – am victim of the old muse. There are four parts…sue me. I go where it tells me and it insists this is where the next bit ends. Yes, yes, stop throwing things at me. It will make no difference. We will get there in due time. Hope you enjoyed. Blame Debussy's _**Claire de Lune**_. It inspires (wink).

Cheers have a glorious weekend.

**EP**


	3. Chapter 3

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws **with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern **

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: **Mature**

Parts:**WIP – 3 **of **5**

_Reviews are fuel._

_This gift is dedicated to__** A_ngua **__and I hope it pleases._

**Chapter 3 of 5 – Quite A Pair** (Post OVA)

~~~BMR~~~

Leaning against the wall Katze continued to observe, the anger that had abated slowly rising in his veins once more. The urge to grab the garment only suppressed by hands firmly rooted in silk lined trouser pockets, his nails biting into his palms in an effort to quell the rage that threatened to bubble to the surface. Katze knew it would only consume him, this battle he could not possible win.

If he chose to be affronted and belligerent his ingratitude for services rendered, physically, would be put in question and there would be reprisals. It was rare to perform a reversal, even when sanctioned by the head of the Syndicate and one other. Complications, pain and healing time notwithstanding it was done.

It was his own calming voice that spoke though he could barely recognize it, or its surprisingly companionable timbre; a calm in no way felt. He wanted him out.

"I find myself in need of a drink, Master Am. Would you care to join me?"

No he _needed_ him gone. If that meant subterfuge or feigned submissiveness so be it.

The spectacle of the deeply reserved head of Medical Sciences rising to his full imposing height and looking down his nose at the mongrel while surreptiously attempt to both crumple and pocket the gossamer thin material, unsuccessfully, was more than worth it for Katze who strolled forward and retrieved the glove that still lay atop the bedding.

Raoul's eyes widened, recognizing why the scent now permeated the room. How long had he been standing there, watching him?

"I believe this is yours, Master Am?"

Their eyes met briefly sending an unexpected thrill through the Elite as his supercilious gaze travelled over the mongrel's near perfectly proportioned face to those soft, slightly parted lips about to speak.

"And that," the red-head pointed one long digit towards Raoul's left pocket, "is mine, Sir Am. I have very little to call my own. Return it, please?"

Raoul bristled mentally at the slight challenge he saw within the sparkling honey gold that peered back. Katze was laughing at him and those lips were desperately fighting a smile; entirely inappropriate and deserving of censure.

Iason had always been far too lenient with this particular servile.

The mongrel stiffened visibly, recognizing the subtle changes in the Blondie's expression from embarrassment to confusion and then harsh resolve. This was not good. Why hadn't he kept his mouth shut?

"Get on your knees," Raoul almost purred, enjoying the visible tremor he exacted from the lithe well formed male who slowly did as he was told with lowered, somewhat resigned eyes.

"Yes, Master Am. It was not my intent to cause offense."

Raoul eyed the glove still held by the red-head in a now vice-like grip against his lap with no small amount of pleasure. This was more like it. One thing was missing, however.

"Look at me, Katze."

The mongrel raised dull unreadable amber as commanded.

Much better, the Elite thought smugly, though not nearly enough.

"I need you to see what you are forcing me to do," Raoul said with a long suffering sigh. He retrieved the sheer garment that protruded from his pocket with an expansive flourish.

Its scent and feel against his naked palm rekindled that curiously arousing and not all together displeasing sensation he had felt earlier. This might even prove more invigorating than the _Party_ he had left.

Raoul raised the delicate sheer material to his nose and inhaled, allowing the material to brush his lips briefly.

Katze watched beneath long lashes, hiding his growing concern with practiced perfection, mentally avoiding the near sexual aspect of the display. That wasn't possible.

What was the Blondie's intent? With luck he might escape with nothing more than a broken bone or two. He just needed to be quiet, submissive, giving no cause to be struck or worse.

"The scent, what is it?" came the matter-of-fact question far closer to his face than anticipated.

Hindsight was always 20/20.

He had angered the mercurial Elite by not responding immediately when asked. The grip, reminiscent of an iron band, about his throat pulsed with barely contained rage as the dealer was thrown effortlessly across the bed and a heavy body landed atop his.

Katze froze beneath the Blondie, defensively raising his hands to push against broad shoulders as he gauged the feral gleam within emerald green eyes. He needn't have bothered. The feel of a rapidly hardening length against his thigh had been reason enough.

~~~BMR~~~

**Author's Note:**

Oh God, I am so tired this morning. Hope you enjoyed…hehehehe! Again, no throwing things at me. Anyway, should you be so pre-disposed the final chapter will be on my LJ.

**EP**


	4. Chapter 4

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws **with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern **

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: **Mature - mild sensual situations depicted**

Parts:**WIP – 4 **of **5**

_Reviews are fuel._

_This gift is dedicated to__** A_ngua **__and I hope it pleases and my eternal gratitude to __**Ainzfern**__ for her humour, sensuality and grace in giving me her valued time._

**Chapter 4 of 5 – Amber Lust** (Post OVA)

~~~BMR~~~

Fear, suspicion, and the telltale signs of arousal warred in Katze's veins as sheaves of spun gold billowed softly about his face like a cool shroud, marking another kind of death; the illusion of control.

He had none.

It made no sense to fight, he acknowledged with a sinking heart. Flight wasn't feasible either. Raoul would only use it as grist, just another excuse to exact punishment for imagined crimes.

With practiced quietude the red-head closed his eyes with a long suffering sigh and carefully lowering his arms to his sides in resignation. He would give no further opposition to the powerfully built male in this game of cat and mouse.

The black market dealer needed time to think; to quell the subtle surge within his own body at so close an unexpected contact with one he had once secretly desired.

It didn't help to feel warm breath like a sensual caress, against his overheated skin. The not so subtle shift of long hard limbs insinuating themselves proprietarily between trembling leather clad thighs and the searing heat of Raoul's cock grinding against his, elicited waves of unbidden heat through his body, further painfully tightening his loins.

A barely suppress moan escaped moist parted lips as the soft covers beneath the red-head were crushed in a death grip by traitorous hands that wished to explore the body that held his captive.

"Open your eyes."

Katze shivered at the softly spoken well modulated register, riff with menace. It bucked no argument. He gulped, steeling his spine for the mockery he would see in those sea green pools of light.

"I'm waiting…"

It hurt to be supplicant; to be subjected to the whims of another, particularly this most loathed of Elites.

He did as he was told, assisted by gloved digits that forcefully turned a stubborn chin.

The gaze that met his was molten. Fire was meant to be red, never emerald green tinged with lust and malice.

"Such an unusual hue…" the deep male register affirmed "Incandescent…amber, gold, like captured sunlight."

That gloved hand gently brushed long amber bangs away from Katze's pale patrician brow. "Such flawless pallor worthy of an Academy Pet juxtaposed with the flame of your hair."

The black market dealer grew deathly still and watchful, assessing the slowly changing expressions of the Blondie with growing trepidation, ignoring the satisfied sigh as Raoul moved again and adjusted his weight, pinning Katze firmly to the bed with his hips, allowing one strong forearm to bear his weight.

Katze gulped, realizing why Raoul had shifted position.

He wasn't even being allowed respite from this sensory assault as that gloved hand, carefully passed over his cheek and brushed soft auburn silk from his jaw line.

The red-head flinched and moved his head away instinctively, closing his eyes tightly anticipating a fist for his diffident response to the Elites touch.

None came. Instead a quiet chuckle as soft moist lips grazed his otherwise smooth cheek.

"Pity… such a pity," Raoul breathed out with feigned sadness in no way reflected by the throbbing length of his lust that pressed eagerly, knowingly, against the answering need of the mongrel's own, barely contained by straining leather.

Katze pleaded in a choked whisper wanting desperately to cry at being so utterly exposed. "Please…please, Master Am, what do you want?"

The nervous movement of that pink tongue over flawless even teeth fascinated. Raoul's eyes were riveted to those lips so enticing close. They looked warm, malleable; ripe for plundering.

What did it feel like, he wondered abstractedly, well pleased at the subtle shift of Katze's hips against his own. The mongrel's breath was intoxicating. Its scent pleased him. Of cloves, mint and something warm, perhaps even alcoholic in nature.

Unsure, the Elite dipped his head and passed his tongue over soft full lips, wetting them with a languorous swipe.

Katze groaned in frustration and arched his lower back involuntarily as Raoul breached the trembling, moist flesh with a tentative dip of an agile tongue.

"Stout?"

The dealer blinked at the non-sequitur.

He was being asked a question while that hand, that mesmerizing hand, continued to graze his cheek and jaw, tracing the faint outline of the scar.

"We could have taken care of that too, you know?"

Tears welled behind closed amber eyes as the black market dealer nodded in defeat.

"Such fine bone structure marred by so repulsive a mark."

Katze's voice cracked and was hardly recognizable to his own ear. "Please, I beg of you, Master Am. Just tell me what you want. I'll do anything."

That low rumble of mocking laughter again as the Elite settled more comfortably between his thighs and practically purred his response with a sharp surge of his hips.

"Ohh dear, Master _Am_ …I?" Raoul chuckled at his own intentionally bad pun. "And here I thought you devoid of humour, Katze. Is this what becomes of my clever little mongrel when aroused?"

Raoul had the upper hand and knew it as was evident by the smirk upon pale lips.

The words were out before Katze could stop himself. "Yes, my life is a joke, Master Am and a bad one at that. Just tell me what you want and I'll do it."

In the deafening silence that followed the quietly defiant statement, a wet hot mouth descended on a pale lobe and suckled with a low growl of censure. A threat fulfilled by strong teeth that did more than nip the delicate flesh betwixt deceptively soft lips.

"Please…please…"

Katze gasped at the pleasure elicited by the sharp pain to his ear. The red-head hated Raoul in that moment but could do nothing but whimper softly in surrender. Strong elegant fingers rose and reflexively grasped broad shoulders tentatively before burying them in that soft thick mane, his hips rising to meet the answering sensual thrust of his captor.

He hated himself more for the unspoken assent he gave as a naked hand snaked its way between their heaving bodies and worked at his zipper with unhurried cruel enjoyment, while warm soft lips continued to torture the delicate skin of his throat.

"Oh God, pleeeeeaaassseee…don't do this to me, Master Am. I beg of you."

That husky sex starved voice pleading had been his. The red-head flushed with embarrassment.

"Why not? Everything _feels_ to be in working order."

Sea green eyes looked down into confused lust hazed amber with a wicked gleam before taking possession of his parted lips. Teeth clashed in a war of dominance exchanged in soft panting breaths. The mongrel fought for some semblance of control. If only in the meeting of tongue, teeth and lips where he found strength in desires previously quashed by conditioning and the ever present need to serve.

The burgeoning heat they shared, not only of gaze but of the less than subtle touch of finger tips exploring the soft auburn down, made the mongrel's strangled cry sound pained and needy to his own ears as that hand eased the zipper down completely, exposing his hard weeping flesh to a predatory appreciative gaze.

Raoul licked his lips and tentatively grasped the blushing length that throbbed within his naked grasp, "Consider it payment for services rendered to the undeserving. Everything has a price, little mongrel, and this is mine."

Katze flushed at the unwavering stare, oblivious to the subtle movement of the body above his as cool strands flowed through his finger tips and touched the parted silk of his shirt leaving eddies of sensual warmth in their wake upon his skin.

He closed his eyes once more, unable to maintain that unfathomable gaze beneath long pale lashes.

This was not happening. Raoul could not possibly have an interest in him. The Elite hated him. Nothing more than a typical Blondie move to assert dominance over those considered lesser; mere playthings.

Sex was beneath them, other than something to observe; an idle pastime, nothing more.

The feel of that wicked tongue across the weeping head of his cock sent shockwaves up and down the dealer's spine. Katze cried out and blunt nails dug into those broad shoulders. He attempted to raise his hips instinctively to no avail.

A subtle smile came to Raoul's wet lips as hooded eyes looked at his trembling captive's flushed face, those mesmerizing eyes opening to bear witness with shock laden lust.

"Excellent. We understand each other."

The clinical manner in which the Elite regarded him held a modicum of hope.

Katze licked swollen lips, aware of the stare that followed his tongue's nervous movements with mild interest while easing down the clinging trousers with deft ease, next went his shoes and socks.

That unwavering look caused the mongrel to speak, if for no other reason but to shift the focus the Elite's lips that were slowly approaching his twitching cock again with intent.

"It's….not necessary to…" he couldn't think, those finger tips were working their way up a smooth quivering thigh now and bared teeth removed the other glove decisively and discarded it with a flick of a practiced wrist.

The smirk that graced Raoul's full lips was downright sinful.

"Oh but it is necessary Katze," Hot fingers glided up his thighs sending cool shivers over exposed flesh as hot tips wended their way to a smooth taut rump and long fingers parted firm butt cheeks and delved in between passing suggestively over puckered flesh. "You shall have the distinct pleasure of me buried deep inside you, Katze."

Raoul's soft chuckle of victory angered the dealer. His body had continued to betray him as his cock twitched in response, pre-cum dripping down the head of his shaft in want at the softly spoken promise.

No performance had ever engendered so intense a response in the ex-Furniture. Not even from those he had employed, on rare occasions, to test skills for potential clients within the citizenry of Midas who frequented his club.

The Elite knew what he was doing and was enjoying the sport of teasing the former Furniture with what he knew he could not have.

"How apropos that I should be the first to breach your …defenses."

Katze's expression hardened, his cock softening at the casual reference to his person.

"Who says you're the first…Sir Am?"

Raoul's eyes flashed dangerously as his lower jaw worked, "Do not toy with me, mongrel. You seem to forget, I am aware of your history and your dealings. _All_ of them."

Pale amber eyes narrowed in thought. It would not do to irritate the highly mercurial being who rose from the bed to his full imposing height.

"Sir Am, might I ask a question?" Katze asked with a modicum of deference befitting the Elite's station. He raised his hands to the front of his shirt and slowly easing his way further onto the bed, away from the predatory hands that lightly held his thighs apart.

An eternity passed as the Elite took a detailed inventory of the pale, well formed specimen with mounting interest, his quixotic anger seemingly forgotten in the blink of an eye.

"No," was the flat matter-of-fact response, a pale brow raised a fraction, taking note of the defensive stance Katze took up at the top of the bed. "You are, however, allowed to answer my original question about the fragrance. Clearly you had it formulated off world. I cannot decipher the top note, very distressing for a well trained nose such as mine."

The silky smooth material that covered the sleek well muscled torso of the mongrel made his fingers itch to explore. Raoul slowly climbed back onto the bed, secretly thrilled by the simple act of stalking his prey at such close quarters. He straddled the mongrel anew while deft fingers batted away those long elegant fingers and began to unbutton the shirt Katze wore with practiced ease.

Steeling himself, Katze stilled the hand about to touch his bare skin, sure in the knowledge a blow would follow for his impertinence. It would, however, have the desired effect of irritating the Blondie, who would immediately lose interest in the proceedings.

Katze was quite wrong as warm lips took his and the hand he previously held, easily extricated itself and made short work of the silken material while the other pressed his shoulder firmly to the soft coverlet.

As became apparent to the mongrel that hand had other plans and preferences like the feel of a thick velvety girth sliding over its palm rhythmically, renewing the waning interests of the tiresome party in question.

True to form, Katze sighed, allowing himself to be kissed to within an inch of sanity, Elites did nothing by halves.

Raoul's mouth meticulously explored the enticingly sweet wetness to be found within those bruised lips and took satisfaction in those long elegant fingers which carded through his hair, occasionally scraping his scalp and sending jolts of current to his already painfully hard erection.

Bravery and reckoning had many faces and on this night beneath the twin moons, Katze found his and something else in that kiss, a bittersweet taste upon his much chastised tongue; his own taste. A taste that quickened his heart, as he fell slowly and inexorably under the spell of that singular kiss of awakening and a memory of another far more chaste kiss from not so long ago.

…When he had awoken from a strange dream in his chambers very much alone and in pain.

~~~BMR~~~

**Author's Note:**

It seemed appropriate to end this chapter here. I always follow the dictates of my muse. Hope you enjoyed and love hearing from you. The final installment **_WILL_** be found on my live journal on **June 15th-16th NOT here**.

Namaste

**EP**


	5. Chapter 5a

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws **with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: **Mature **

Parts: **WIP – 5a **of **5b**

_Reviews are fuel._

_My eternal gratitude to __**Ainzfern **__for her time and patience in being my editor and occasionally gently slapping me about when necessary; she is one of the best authors in the AnK Universe, current or past. Visit her __**live journal**__ sometime. Such wholly entertaining work is __**VERY**__ worthy of praise. _

**Chapter 5a of 5b – Slippery When Wet** (Post OVA)

~~~BMR~~~

Wisps of pale moons light stealthily crept over the soft covers, casting a silvery sheen on the two writhing figures atop the bed.

The faintest of moans was uttered from the red-head's parted lips as Raoul continued his unrelenting assault on the sweat dewed skin of his neck, tongue and teeth tracing a slow sensual path from jaw to collar bone and back again.

He could feel Raoul's victorious smile against the soft moist skin of his neck and the languorous lick then nip of teeth in response to his low needy whimpers. That dexterous hot tongue continued to wend its way toward a taut pale nipple, lathing it teasingly before gifting its twin in equal measure.

"Oh God…Yeesss!"

The Blondie chuckled coldly, never once lifting his head to acknowledge the lusty breathless plea uttered by the mongrel.

Katze closed his eyes, giving himself over completely to the feel and scent of the sinuous body atop his and the slow torturous grind of hips that had found their way once more within the cradle of his thighs, pinning him to the coverlet.

Raoul knew perfectly well what he was doing, rekindling the mongrel's own lust, despite evident misgivings. He could feel it in Katze's tentative touch that had grown suddenly bold. Those long delicately boned fingers explored his upper body and held him fast, the mongrel's supple form thrashing beneath his, eager for the press of flesh and fulfillment.

The red-head seemed particularly fascinated with his hair, gently carding through his mane repeatedly, soothingly, reverently; a most pleasing sensation. Even more so when nails dug into his scalp sending a hot jolt of molten lust through his already turgid member. Exquisite was the feel of those lean hips rising up to meet his willingly in their shared heat.

It was so tempting to simple flip him over and have done with it and yet…the thought did not appeal.

He would have to slow the pace for maximum enjoyment. No point in wasting the experiment with undue haste. This wasn't about sating the mongrel's lust in the least, regardless of the unanticipated pleasure elicited within by the pliant body's responsiveness or the slick wetness currently daubing his lower abdomen. It only served to confirm the mongrel's readiness, to say nothing of his own current state of pained pleasure.

Raoul's eyes closed in bliss, continuing to lath the pale, tensely corded throat. There it was again, that intoxicatingly subtle musk rising from ex-furniture's heated skin, enticing him to lick, suckle and tease the moist salty velvet between his lips as he descended the shivering form.

A most engaging practice this sexual congress, the Elite mused abstractedly, efficiently releasing the clasp of his belt, with an upward quirk of lips around the taut disk of a nipple, delicious.

Katze's groaned exhalation of pleasure came from deep within his chest and reverberated within the cavernous room, sending ripples of smug satisfaction through the Elite.

To the victor always went the spoils as the Black Market dealer had taught many, the hard way. It was simply his turn …again.

This was nothing more than a game Katze affirmed bitterly, biting his kiss bruised lower lip and arching into the sweet pain of blunt teeth tormenting tender flesh. Soft tendrils of spun silk caressed his straining arms almost lovingly, while his trembling fingers pushed broad smooth shoulders downward.

He was complicit in the act of self persecution. No point fooling himself.

Karma could be a hard task master at times. He wanted this, for however long it lasted, regardless of what would follow. Katze stifled the whine that threatened to escape his throat again as hot finger tips grazed his outer thighs, leaving eddies of molten heat in their wake.

Sinuously Raoul continued to glide down his body, teasing his throbbing cock with the brush of a smooth cheek before sliding to the end of the bed; leaving him bare, cold and open to scrutiny.

The familiar metallic slide of a zipper being lowered caused exotically tilted amber eyes to open in query. Katze blinked in dazed confusion at the towering silhouette that stood just beyond the skylight's moons cast.

He didn't need to see those vivid green eyes to know the Elite was plotting, strategizing, purposely choosing to stand just beyond the radiant shimmer of the twin moons light where his own expression could remain masked.

Katze lowered his gaze to the belt Raoul still held loosely in one hand, while the other rested suggestively over his groin.

Raoul's perceptive eyes narrowed and a slight smile touched well formed lips as he watched the Black Market dealer's usually mask of stoicism fall into place, but for those intelligent eyes attempted to decipher his next move.

Katze had just confirmed a suspicion long held by the scientist.

He knew now why the red-head often chose to lower his gaze, even amongst his own while speaking. It was a peculiarity of his, even while working with his beloved terminals.

The Elite had had myriad opportunities to study the ex-Furniture as he performed his duties silently, flawlessly in the Mink household. He knew now what most took for acceptance of caste, servitude and its confines was in reality not so passive aggression; the last refuge of a keenly honed inquisitive mind, thwarted by circumstance.

Those eyes that met his briefly were weary, searching, and questioning of motive beneath the long lashes that only moments before had been pleasantly fanning Raoul's cheek as they shared intimately of moist breath, skin and sweat.

Raoul involuntarily shivered in anticipation of the coming conquest, his eyes lazily drinking in the vision before him; of luminously moon kissed skin concealing strong, agile muscles. Green eyes continued their appreciative tour to the blushing shaft of the mongrel's proud cock that, like its owner, refused to back down, even against fearsome odds.

"Come here, Katze," Raoul almost whispered, waving the belt as though conducting, its metallic buckle glinting ominously in the pale moons light. "On all fours if you please, I rather like you in that position."

And things had been going so well, too, the red-head sarcastically thought, slowly crawling as commanded to the end of the bed.

Keenly aware of the evident swell so invitingly close, Katze kept his eyes averted and consciously controlled his breathing, doing his best to ignore the primal tang of sweat and sex that pervaded the room and his own body.

Raoul watched with rapt fascination the slow progress of a single bead of sweat making its way from the mongrel's shimmering hairline to upper lip.

Katze had no intentions of making the wrong move and possibly setting off the dormant beast that towered above him with a predatory stance.

Making the mongrel wait for his next command had been half the fun, but now, he was getting bored and that salty glistening droplet was proving far too alluring to resist.

"Lick it, Katze."

The Black Market dealer furtively glanced at Raoul's crotch, before lowered his eyes demurely.

"May I change position, Master Am?"

The blasted man still wore the slim fitting trousers and by all appearances, briefs. Amber eyes travelled slowly over the smooth lickable skin covering lean angular hip bones. Only the merest suggestion of pubic hair presented itself to the naked eye. His fingers longed to touch the forbidden.

Katze caught himself and averted his gaze, embarrassingly aware that he had been staring, lusting after the perfect form of his enemy. The thought had come entirely unbidden.

"No. It is a simple enough request. Surely you can manage that without me having to show you how, hmmm?"

It really wasn't as if he didn't want to fulfill Raoul's command, but doing so in his current position was untenable and impractical. He would need his hands.

Though very aware of the possible reprisals for his action, the Black Market dealer sighed audibly and rose on his haunches knowingly defying the direct command.

"Respectfully, Master Am, if you want me to suck you off, I must remove this."

He tugged on the belt loop of the Elite's trousers lightly and silently began peeling off the sticky waist band of Raoul's trousers and underwear.

The Elite's enticingly musky scent filled Katze's nostrils. Raoul was wet through with more than mere sweat.

For a fleeting moment Katze's lips quirked in a half smile, savouring the small triumph. Raoul definitely wanted him, despite his cool attempt at manipulation. He could work with this. On more than one occasion he had snatched victory from the jaws of defeat with far less to work with, he mused as his fingers gently grazed Raoul's inner thighs, thoroughly enjoying the subtle tremble of strong muscles in response to his touch.

Moment had, he cloaked his expression before efficiently returning to his task of disrobing this most difficult and mercurial of beings.

The Blondie had to admit to being somewhat taken aback by the presumptive defiance shown by the willful little mongrel. He could so easily snap that long, delicate neck, he thought tightening his grip on the belt.

Katze had overstepped; completely misunderstanding the command for what it was. No matter. He bit back a groan as the pads of Katze's fingers sensually skated across damp thighs, eliciting a most disquieting thought.

Had the ex-Furniture performed these said same duties for his former Master? Raoul attempted to quash the bilious thought as visions of the mongrel willingly servicing his lifelong friend came to the fore.

Green eyes narrowed, unaccountably perturbed by the concept as he glared accusingly at the Black Market dealer's impassive expression. Raoul's livid gaze was drawn once more to those graceful hands, those delicate wrists. No wasted movement or flourish. Just performing a task, he had undoubtedly done many times before.

Firm in his resolve to punish, a slow predatory smile returned to his lips. Never let it be said, Raoul Am could not adapt readily to new situations, particularly those that promised violent release and retribution.

_**Oooooooh**_ Katze would be punished alright, for far more than his act of disobedience.

This beguiling creature had a flawed tendency to be proud. Those now trembling fingers said far more than his earlier words of bravado. Perhaps he had been wrong in his surmise he mused, stepping out of the wet sticky clothing. More mileage could well be had from informing him about his little error later.

He would enjoy him first, repeatedly.

Something in Raoul's manner and aura had changed. Katze cautiously eyed how lovingly the Elite stroked the belt from buckle to tip. His breathing had changed also and the muscles beneath his fingers had tensed, almost as if the Blondie was preparing to strike.

The red-head nervously liked his lips. Think, Katze think...something's amiss.

"Master Am?"

The Elite noted with satisfaction the tremor in the breathy, questioning tone of the mongrel's voice. He wanted nothing more than to feel the heat of those soft succulent lips and that equally slick tongue wrapped around his pulsing cock as he fucked that impertinent mouth to perdition.

The disciplining of chattel could take many forms. Katze would learn his place, a toy, to be easily dispensed with once used.

Instinctively Raoul leaned his hips forward, mildly annoyed as Katze bit his lower lip and fidgeted his way into a seated position at the edge of the bed in preparation. The mongrel's warm breath ghosted across his skin, raising gooseflesh.

"Remember, no teeth, little mongrel. You really don't want to make me angry."

"Yes, Master Am."

Katze kept his gaze lowered, as a silky soft cock head nudged his cheek, inveigling him to begin. Raoul had taken things, literally, into his own hand. There was something in Elite's tone that he could not decipher; something more than frustration. Closing his eyes, the Black Market dealer opened his mouth, accepting the slide of hot throbbing flesh between his lips.

"Mmmmm… yesssss, Katze… just like that..."

**~~~BMR~~~**

**Author's Note:**

Yes, I know, _**An_gua**_! BAD! BAD! WICKED EVIL EP! Not to worry, the final bit this 'coming' weekend. You wouldn't love me if I were not such a horrid tease, now would you? Seriously, work calls me and I don't have time to tweak the final 4 to 5 pages. This was a good place to end.

Namaste

**EP**


	6. Chapter 5b

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws **with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: **Mature – NC 17**

Parts:**Complete??? – 5b **of **5b**

_Reviews are fuel._

_This little sojourn into decadence is the property of A_ngua, now and always._

**Chapter 5b of 5b – In Situ** (Post OVA)

~~~**BMR**~~~

His men had cleared off for the night in search of more 'willing' entertainment they could touch without fear or favor. Guy had remained, nursing one final drink as he worked up the courage to climb the stairs. The current display on stage was boring him to tears as the four petite Pets bucked and whined their way to feigned ecstasy, while inebriated clients watched with hands firmly in laps.

But for Guy's, there wasn't a dry crotch in the house.

_How dare he__!?_

That singular thought drove Bison's leader, unsteadily from his booth and up the stairwell towards Katze's private offices. None of the guards on duty tried to stay his movements. Guy preened at this fact.

They knew he had business with the uber boss and did not question his presence, other than the mandatory pat down he would receive from the vicious looking entity atop the stairs. The bald male in question, stocky of frame but in an earlier time a looker, was openly regarding him with suspicion and a fair amount of predatory interest.

Bison's leader casually adjusted his 'person' and continued to mount the stairs.

Guy's cold gray eyes managed to focus, appraising the man before him with a certain level of challenge now that they were face to face. Perhaps he had drunk too much and was biting off way more than he could chew. He eyed his own image in the reflective surface of the wall beyond the broad tense shoulders of the guard.

With a snort he raised his arms and parted long legs with an open invitation meant to appease and titillate the behemoth before him, long chestnut hair slung over one shoulder, shadowing pale eyes that held a lewd gleam.

"Knock yourself out, big boy."

The wind _was_ knocked out of Bison's leader as he found himself pressed firmly and painfully to the wall and a low rumble resonated in his ear, sending shivers up his spine as a coarse palm kneaded his groin. It was in no way pleasurable.

"Behave, little boy."

The pincer-like grip twisting the newly acquired arm caused Guy to whimper in pain.

Guy's own bravado faltered as he was spun back around and held to the wall by his wrenched shoulder. His breath caught as the fingers of a thick hand threateningly glided over his lean flanks, and well muscled derriere before nudging suggestively between wide spread legs.

"Never issue invitations you don't intend to keep, little man. Do that again, you'll get more than you bargained for."

"Yeah and I'll chop your dick off if you try!" Guy practically spat in the anger at the security man, who still held his arm, but with a less fierce grip. His words had registered. They all knew of his history.

As though the threat hadn't been issued, the guard chuckled and gave Guy one last lingering look. "Not before I give you a good going over though. It won't just be me. We'll all take a turn while the Master watches."

Detailed inspection complete, a slow smile graced a scarred upper lip as dark blue eyes held indignant, livid gray.

"Nice… very nice. Amazed the boss hasn't tried you out himself, but he's weird like that. Never mixes business with pleasure. Me, I'm not so particular."

~~~**BMR**~~~

Katze had always made a point of never mixing business with pleasure, but there were exceptions. With growing satisfaction, pale amber eyes watched under thick lashes the beautiful lines of Raoul's patrician features contorting in ecstasy with each languid swipe of his tongue.

For the first time in the encounter, the red-head felt empowered, so much so a graceful hand snaked between his own thighs, seeking his neglected shaft with a slow exhalation of warm breath. He moaned in pleasure around the Elite's girth.

Katze drank him in once more, enjoying the bittersweet essence at the back of his throat as he hummed.

Raoul hissed, shuddering in response.

"Ooooh Katze, yes…yes...yes…"

Long elegant fingers grasped the damp silken head of the mongrel and gently petted the soft hair as a reward. The Elite adjusted his stance, fully enjoying the sight and feel of being buried to the hilt between those soft wet lips and the quiet thrumming vibrations of dealer's throat that sent shockwaves through his form.

Raoul gazed dazedly at the bobbing head, suppressing the guttural hiss that almost escaped clenched teeth. Those soft lips suckled him with practiced precision before taking him in fully.

Green eyes opened fully, his pleasure marred by a sudden realization. The mongrel had no discernable gag reflex.

Anger filled the Elite.

He thrust violently into the heat of the wet, welcoming orifice, causing Katze to finally gag at the unexpected shift in pace. Large amber eyes looked up into piercing cold green. Raoul's cock slipped from wet lips and trembling hands, in self defense, stilled the Blondie's hips.

"Much better, little Mongrel. I thought _that_ would get your attention."

Again that recurring thought as he looked into those limped, questioning pools of amber light. Katze had done this before.

Possibly even with Iason.

Blinding rage overtook the Elite at this surmise. He struck a lancing blow across Katze's cheek.

The mongrel bore it silently to Raoul's surprise. Katze was made of far sterner stuff than he had originally anticipated. The only sign of discomfort the slow working of his jaw.

"Consider that a mild reprimand for your presumptive behavior. Never labor under the delusion that you are free to gratify your own carnal needs in my presence. You are nothing more than a vehicle for my own pleasure."

Raoul watched with fascination the myriad expressions that passed over the dealer's handsome face before it settled on a cool dispassionate gaze. There was challenge there in those beautiful eyes now cold with repressed fury.

"Fine…fine… Master Am, as you wish."

What surprised the Elite most was the movement of those graceful hands that crept across the rumpled sheets and grasped the belt, then examined it before placing it around his own elegant throat, fastening it with an air of resignation.

Katze extended his palm to the Elite with the rest of the coiled leather.

"Might I assume you would prefer to fuck me now, Master Am?"

~~~**BMR**~~~

The door was closed as expected but not locked.

Knocking was simply not Guy's style. He looked about him, noting with relief that the monolith had moved further down the hall to investigate a disturbance. Apparently someone was a bit boisterous in Salon 10 and the ex-Pet in question was having none of it. She had rights and the client had not paid nearly enough for his unusual request.

Guy sniggered and slowly opened the door to the understated, if not downright boringly monotone space that was Katze's office and stepped through.

The floor to ceiling monitors were aglow but muted, he noticed. His eyes wandered over the varying displays finally settling on Salon 10 where a corpulent, sweating male was cowering in a corner dressed in nothing more than a bustier of the most lurid pink and very little else.

Guy was transfixed as the guard heaved the body of the terrified client over his shoulder seemingly effortlessly and stayed the flailing hands of the tiny, rather pretty former Pet who was getting her licks in before the unfortunate man in question was summarily thrown out into the streets in his current garb. Guy's pale eyes shifted to the wet bar with a smirk. Katze did have the best booze up here.

'_Why not indulge while the Katze away_.'

He chuckled at his own exceedingly bad pun while pouring from the decanter into a paper thin goblet of alien design and glanced at the other monitors, only one was dark.

Gray eyes became pinpoints of malicious speculation. He took a swig and picked up the control.

Might as well enjoy himself while he waited for the dealer's return.

Several experimental taps finally garnered results and the holographic screen's silvery haze bloomed into a full capture. Two shadowy male figures were obviously engaged in some manner of hardcore foreplay.

That lewd smile returned to the mongrel's handsome face as he cocked his legs up on the low lacquered table and prepared to enjoy the free show.

The taller of the two was a superb specimen, Guy thought, absently caressing the inseam of his weathered jeans, almost purring in approval as he eased back into the comfortable couch and lifted the snifter to his lips. He still hadn't found the audio control, but that didn't matter.

Who needed sound, when the action on screen spoke volumes?

He liked how the smaller tethered male silhouette shivered in response to the yank of the …Guy zoomed in…yes it was a belt.

"Mmmmm….nice touch."

Guy licked the rim of the thin goblet, eyes narrowing lasciviously in what promised to be a seriously good fuck. Damn but the bigger of the two was well hung. Elite material, from what he had heard.

That was gonna hurt.

Unconsciously the chestnut-haired mongrel opened the snap of his jeans allowing callused fingers to tease and comb the soft curly brush of his sex with an anticipatory sigh, his own sphincter clenching in unaccustomed empathy.

~~~**BMR**~~~

Again the red-haired mongrel had overstepped, willfully challenging his dominance in the situation. Raoul snarled in frustration, yanking the frail body to its knees. Cold emerald looked down at the supplicating figure at his naked feet.

Raoul's eyes furrowed unexpectedly. Katze was shivering but offered no challenge, instead selecting to keep his head bowed.

'_Most dissatisfactory_.'

Unaccountably perturbed by the shift in events, Raoul bent and examined the rapidly swelling bruise upon the mongrel's fine boned cheek.

"It…didn't have to be this way, Katze…"

A self effacing chuckle, devoid of humor, escaped the dealer's swollen lips.

"Oh yes, Master Am. No other way this could end. Just do it. Get your rocks off. I will heal, eventually. I always do."

Raoul blinked at the unexpected sotto voiced response, his own chest constricting at the implication of Katze's words. Someone had taken steps, possibly denying him his prize.

Another sharp tug on the impromptu leash, in lieu of a response, while carefully observing the mongrel's reaction.

There was none.

"Meaning?"

Pale eyes looked up, entirely defeated. The look had been fleeting but it was there; disconcerting to say the least. Such unwanted openness quickly veiled by long lashes and thinned lips.

"The floor or the bed?"

It felt odd to take the Mongrel's lead, but this once he would, if for no other reason other than to avoid that accusing gaze and the sudden foreboding in his own chest.

"The bed, I should think." Raoul answered casually, noting with mild affront the flagging interest of the mongrel's member as he crawled on all fours and faced the inlaid head board.

A pale brow rose, further irritated by his own sudden waning erection. The dealer had ostensibly chosen the one position best suited to avoiding any form of intimacy, possibly so he could imagine someone else impaling his flesh.

Raoul was having none of it.

"On your back, Katze… I want you on your back."

An exasperated sigh, a momentary shift as the lean muscles of his back quivered under the shimmering light before acquiescing. Raoul pointedly avoided the gaze he knew that was upon him. Katze spread his legs mechanically and leaned heavily into the plush pillows below his head, his face in shadow.

Raoul's eyes roamed over the still figure appreciatively. He really was a magnificent little thing. No wonder Iason had chosen him as Furniture. He more than accentuated his surroundings with his elfin beauty.

Though a little unnerved by the complete lack of interest shown by that formerly proud cock lying flaccid against Katze's thigh, Raoul remained undaunted. He could easily work with what he saw before him and was sufficiently smug in the knowledge that Katze wanted him, regardless of his current unresponsiveness.

Raoul pursed his lips, continuing to gaze at the smooth expanse of well muscled alabaster before him. He had no intention of being denied the pleasure of hearing Katze cry out in ecstasy, perhaps even pain, as he impaled him. Green eyes hooded with cool calculation. Vivid images of violent acquisition forming in his minds eye awakening his cock as if from sleep.

A bit of give and take might well prove the most expedient course of action in eliciting interest.

"Where is it?"

Katze shifted, rising on his elbows, his head bent in query.

"What is it you require, Master Am?"

Raoul gritted his teeth. The damn little tease was forcing him to state the obvious.

"Don't test my patience in an effort to be coy, Katze. You won't like the results," the Elite hissed, broad shoulders stiffening as he climbed onto the bed, looking very much like what he was, a predator.

Katze knew well enough, but had been surprised by the implicit request. This demand was entirely out of character for the being now hovering over him, violently nudging his thighs further apart while long fingers deftly stroked puckered flesh in a slow caress.

"Lubricant Katze, lubricant… I'm amazed it doesn't come oozing out of the walls in this little Den of Inequity," Raoul whispered threateningly into his ear.

The red-head gasped as the searing heat of the Elite's need further urgently illustrated the point against the flat of his belly with slow rhythmic strokes.

Nervous fingers fiddled with the knob of the bedside table, quickly caught by an outstretched hand stilling them and unceremoniously placing said hand where it was wanted about the Elite's waist.

Katze blinked in consternation at the male that rose above him and curiously examined the tube. It was almost laughable to watch the Elite attempting to read the instructions in the ambient light before judicious application of the cold, slick unguent to his blushing manhood.

"Not that it is my place, Master Am, but might I suggest you apply it to me too? It will more than ease the process and further _**your**_ enjoyment…_**tha**__t_ is the point."

A wayward blonde lock was whipped back indignantly at being interrupted. The Elite glared at the man he straddled with an air of superior indifference and handed the mongrel the tube, the cutting words with emphasis on _his_ pleasure in no way lost.

Katze averted his gaze and handily began to prepare himself with practical cold efficiency; a feigned cold efficiency not shared by a slowly lengthening, thickening sex.

Raoul smirked. The Mongrel wanted him though he pretended otherwise.

Batting the red-head's slick fingers away from his prize, the Elite slowly breached his opening with unexpected care. One finger then two, curled delectably within the tight heat of the mongrel's body.

Katze sighed, entirely surprised by the gentle, yet intrusive caress of long fingers that sought and found, the sweet spot within with pinpoint accuracy.

"Mmmmm…more…" the red-head moaned leaning back against the plush pillows, grasping the Blondie's hips with a surprisingly strong grip, soft amber intent on the patrician face above.

"Fuck me, Master Am. I want you to fuck me, please," was the strangled breathy request, verging on demand.

'_This was more like it_.'

Raoul's lips quirked into a self-satisfied smile, continuing to observe that eerily beautiful countenance's response to his every touch, completely lost in surrender. Katze was a sensualist. Something he would remember for the future.

How many years had he waited, biding his time, subconsciously wanting to hear those words uttered by petulant lips used to caustic repartee?

Unwanted memories flooded the Elite of the dealer's reconstructive surgery; Iason's most telling gift to his servant of years.

Even as the Mongrel slept post operatively the creature had drawn him. That guileless expression entranced; almost angelic in its fragile balanced beauty. The full curve of that mouth, usually a thin disciplined line, augmented by furrowed brows, softening by slumber had proved far too enticing to resist.

Raoul had succumbed with a brush of velvety lips, no more, hardly tasting the sweetness he now knew intimately.

The hatred, the tumult within had begun then.

Such power held in so fragile a being not worthy of an Elite's notice, had captured the Second in Command.

~~~**BMR**~~~

Guy bit his lower lip, entirely engrossed as the one with the pale glowing mane parted the other's legs fully with a proprietary air, long fingers sinking between the cleft of firm, smooth cheeks, delving within the tight hot channel of muscle.

He groaned softly, eyes blissfully at half mast as his own callused fingers skated over his balls to stroke the hot velvet of sensitive skin between testes and anus. Few of his ill chosen partners, except Riki, had ever taken the time to touch him there. To a man they had chosen to lick, suck or fuck with their own gratification in mind.

Guy's eyes opened dazedly as the blonde's profile came fully into view, caught by the light of the moons glow as the pale head bent forward and took the lips of the prone red-headed male possessively, while firm butt cheeks tightened with a pre-emptive thrust of hips between wide spread legs.

~~~**BMR**~~~

Katze went rigid within Raoul's arms, his cry stifled by the press of soft velvety lips and an agile tongue that breached his lips moments before that equally hot intrusive shaft had taken possession, stretching him fully, painfully.

Raoul lifted his head, observing with keen calculating eyes the grimace upon the beautiful face. He would thank him later. No point delaying the inevitable by inching incrementally. In fact, considering this had been his first incursion in enemy territory, Raoul was quite proud of his skills.

The mongrel had not been torn, merely stretched by his substantial girth. Something about Katze's expression pleased him. Regardless of his earlier boastful words, Raoul knew from the expression in those beautiful querulous eyes, he was the first.

This seemingly irrelevant fact proved comforting to the Elite, whose own lips gently turned up in a half smile unbeknownst to the owner of said lips.

Katze blinked, entirely flummoxed by the gentle expression he saw in the soft emerald green, quietly observing him with studious intent. Despite misgivings long fingers brushed pale strands behind Raoul's ear and received for its efforts a soft appreciative purr of contentment.

"Kiss me, Master Am."

In no way a command, a simple request the Elite was more than willing to fulfill as he carefully began to move within the pliant giving body below, savouring the heat of their connection.

~~~**BMR**~~~

Guy came with a strangled cry captivated by the movement of strong undulating hips and the pained pleasure of that familiar face on screen biting down on a broad shoulder with blunt white teeth.

Katze!

Someone was fucking Katze and he was enjoying it!

~~~**BMR**~~~

Pungent was the intoxicating fragrance of Katze's release.

Anointed; he felt anointed as hot, wet, pulses of the mongrel's cum spilled between their sweating, heaving bodies with each punishing stroke within. The searing heat of delectably firm muscles threatening to constrict his own fruition, tightening painfully with each renewed surge of viscous evidence shared.

Raoul mindlessly surrendered to the primeval call of fulfillment fueled by the feel of moist lips and the strong bite of teeth into his shoulder muscles as Katze trembled.

The Elite roared his pleasure, his pride, at the mongrel's surrender beneath him.

Katze's arched his back enjoying the hot surge of Raoul's essence spilling, overflowing, anointing his bedding, his body; a first.

~~~**BMR**~~~

Guy blinked, then blinked again, hands searched desperately for something dry, preferably cloth to wipe the evidence of his own completion off costly material. In the end, he had had to use his shirt to remove as much evidence of his presence before carefully leaving the outer office.

Fear, trepidation and the inevitable incumbent reprisals always wrought havoc with an inebriated mind.

He had left the monitor on.

~~~**BMR**~~~

Katze watched under lowered lashes the languid movements of the Elite as he retrieved his vestments, sniffed the various articles of clothing and began silently dressing at the foot of the bed.

The red-head noted the sash was entirely wrong. A soft smirk came to pale lips as he slowly, carefully got up, retrieved the open pack of smokes by his bedside and lit a Black Nocturne.

"If I may be so bold, Master Am?"

Raoul's eyes narrowed. True, the question had been delivered relatively demurely but the impish gleam he saw in those cognac eyes spoke volumes.

"As you wish. Get on with it."

Efficiently the dealer tucked, buttoned and studied the resplendent, if not slightly rumpled being before him with satisfaction. He exhaled a long plum of smoke with a squinting proprietary air.

Then he remembered and carefully unclasped the belt about his neck and placed it where it belonged around that most skilled waist with a tug of the clasp to close.

Raoul looked very much like the cold fish he was, Katze mused.

Funny, it didn't bother or send the fear of God into him at the moment. They each knew their place and this would never happen again.

There was comfort in that, he assured himself, tightening the loose silken sheet about his midriff with finality, exhaling the fragrant smoke, observing the male that towered above him with blank acceptance.

The silence was palpable.

"Your car should still be down there, Sir Am."

"Of course, where else would it be?"

Katze shrugged, so much for conversation.

Raoul blinked and watched as the graceful body elegantly sauntered to the window and lifted a blind, well sculpted features framed by the shimmering light of twin moons.

"I'll send a complete report to your office tomorrow morning before you get in."

The Elite's shoulders stiffened. He felt dismissed. With purposeful strides he reached the door, opened it and left without a backward glance.

Katze had not moved from his perch at the window. His eyes closed as he heard the security lock engage the outer port of his office.

Silently, abstractly, he observed the tall, lean silhouette gracefully settle in the rear of the Syndicate vehicle, its occupant oblivious to his presence and silent vigil.

A sad smile graced the red-head's lips at the irony as pale amber blinked and came to rest on the gleaming white object that remained in the open doorway - a glove; the only evidence of the unrequited divide; how apropos.

He would have it laundered and sent on in the morning along with the report. Fuck but his jaw hurt. Maybe a shower, Raoul's scent still lingered on his skin.

~~~**BMR**~~~

Raoul's gaze remained far afield as the lights of Eos Tower came into view, his naked palm methodically, repeatedly stroking the cool material of his gloved hand without respite.

It felt strange – alien without its twin. He would retrieve it in the morning.

For now he needed a shower, the man's scent permeated his skin.

**Author's Note**

*WICKED EVIL GRIN*

Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive…even _**ourselves**_…

I think there _is_ a next time…don't you?

Namaste

**ElegantPaws**


	7. Chapter 6

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws **with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: **Mature – Mature**

Parts:**WIP – 6 **of ?

_Reviews are fuel._

_This little sojourn into decadence is the property of A_ngua, now and always._

**Chapter 6 – Mornings Mourning** (Post OVA)

~~~**BMR**~~~

"Mmmmm…"

Hot water sluiced over the tired aching muscles of his back while steam billowed. His jaw ached something fierce. The cold compress had helped but not nearly enough. There would be a massive unexplainable bruise tomorrow.

"Bastard."

Carefully he washed himself, surprised more damage had not been done. Just tender, Katze peripherally acknowledged as he soaped himself a second time.

He could still smell him, feel him upon his skin - faint stirrings; no good. Control was everything.

Katze sighed. He didn't need this.

Switching the levers to cold, he shuddered as his teeth began to chatter under the brutal pulses of cold, unforgiving water that beat upon now tense muscles like sharp pin pricks.

"Much better," he shivered climbing out of the stall and roughly towel dried his skin, suddenly aware of the faint light beyond the windows as a new day crept into view.

~~~**BMR**~~~

_Hot breath ghosted across his face, supple fingers feather light stroked the taut muscles of his back rhythmically, bodies drenched with sweat__, their hearts racing in time towards the inexorable flush of completion. _

Raoul moaned aloud and thrashed.

_He could feel those l__ong sinewy legs wrapped tightly about him. The smooth sweat dewed skin of a sleekly muscled abdomen arching with equal fervor, encouraging the friction they shared between powerful thrusts of frantic hips. _

_So tight, so hot and welcoming__, a stifled cry torn from a throat in ragged pants as slick evidence coated their bellies. The heady scent of musk as he came in hot wet pulses and the pull of warm, soft lips as their mouths mirrored the union of hot flesh, his cock continuing to twitch in release. _

'Wetness?'

Raoul's eyes flew open as his heart continued to race.

He had been dreaming as was evidenced by the damp patch on sheets pooled in his lap and the dull receding ache in his loins.

The Elite looked about his bedroom dazedly.

Dawn was breaking beyond the windows. Another day had begun.

~~~**BMR**~~~

The blue cast of the monitor gave an eerie glow to Guy's face as he began to slowly smile. He had found him.

"Sir Raoul Am, Chief Medical Officer."

Bison's leader stretched languidly. It had taken most of the night and a sleepless one at that, but this was _sooooooo_ worth it.

"You naughty, naughty Blondie," he snickered and blinked his eyes as a thin dusty light came through the dull gray sheet that stood in lieu of a blind from the newly awakened world that was the Midas slums by daylight.

He had Katze by the balls. Lazily he stretched and threw himself on the makeshift bed. A few hours of sleep were his reward. There would be more than enough time to corner the red-head in his den.

A brand new day had dawned in more ways than one.

~~~**BMR**~~~

"Kato, you sure no one has been up here this morning?"

"No Sir," the elderly servant assured, continuing to look about him with a growing sense of dread. The office had been disturbed.

There was method to the Master's madness in the office's innocuous appearance. There was a place for everything and everything in its place. Not so this morning.

Katze had been his best owner to date. If he had failed him, what would become of him? Where would he go? Only luck gave him this enviable of positions as personal servant to the Black Market dealer of Midas.

The Master asked very little, ate even less and paid him sufficiently to take care of his own needs while providing him a place to live, protected from the marauding pack of jackals beyond the confines of the gates. He had failed at the only real task he had ever been given, keeping the Master's rooms pristine, undisturbed.

Stopping once or twice to note a shift, a misplaced item, narrowed slits of amber continued to pass over every surface with a sense of foreboding. The cushions were haphazardly shoved on the couch and a stain, no three stains now that he looked closely, were hurriedly rubbed disturbing the nap of the material. Katze picked up the overturned snifter, sniffed it and eyed the wet bar.

His Best Allurian Brandy, hardly any left.

Kato approached the dark clad figure and took the snifter from Katze's outstretched hand.

"Clean up this mess and find out who was in here and when."

"Yes Master**."**

Turning to look at his manservant, Katze eyes widened briefly as he looked over the shorter man's head. The monitor to his bedroom was on. It was NEVER on!

"Get security in here NOW!"

Kato need not have been told twice. The angry stark expression on that usually impassive white face brooked no argument.

~~~**BMR**~~~

Guy watched as the elderly man, surprisingly for his years, speed past him without acknowledgment carrying the snifter and heading for the kitchen with a purposeful gait.

He smiled secretively to himself and took another swig. Things were quiet. They always were at the club in the mornings. This was the rest time for all. The boss would be counting his takings for the night and putting to bed his accounting.

Guy was feeling generous today as one business man to another. In the meantime he would nurse his drink and worked out exactly how he was going to use his little gem to best advantage.

Katze being fucked by a Blondie of all things, Guy pursed his lips with a slight frown. A shame it hadn't been Tanagura's leader himself. He could then have killed two birds with one stone. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers. The second in command was good enough for his plans, at least once he worked them out. Finally, everyone would sit up and give him the respect he deserved. Cause if this got out!

A slow smile graced his full lips as the bartender refilled his tankard, giving him a furtive evil look.

Bison's leader was brought out of his reverie by a sudden whirl of activity as the tall thick set guard he had previously had a run in with the night before, came crashing through the kitchen doors chewing the last of his hurried breakfast, shirt still unbuttoned.

Guy kept his eyes down as he passed, he could feel those piercing blue eyes resting on him briefly before their owner made a beeline up the stairs, closely followed by two of his henchmen with lethal looking weaponry.

The chestnut-haired mongrel gulped, the last of the ale suddenly clogging his throat. This might well not have been such a good idea.

Instinctively he knew he had been caught as quiet footfalls approached then stilled, the subtle fragrance of _Amber Lust_ announcing the familiar sentinel that stood at his side, while the pressure of long delicate fingers sent shooting pain through is right shoulder blade.

"Another? Or would you prefer Allurian Brandy?"

Guy looked up into cold amber slits. His stomach fell to his feet. Katze looked murderous.

"We need to _talk_, Guy."

Perhaps, it wasn't such a good day.

~~~**BMR**~~~

**Author's Note**

Chapter Six completed. Things are getting complicated. Hope you enjoyed.

Namaste

**ElegantPaws**


	8. Chapter 7

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws **with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: **Mature – SEXUAL situation implied**

Parts:**WIP – 7 **of ?

_Reviews are fuel._

_And this chapter might seem to come out of left field for some, but trust me on this, it does serve a purpose. Everyone, on occasion deserves a change of pace…a reckoning. As always, I hope you enjoyed A_ngua. You were the spark of inspiration._

**Chapter 7 of ? – An Acceptable Crush** (Post OVA)

~~~BMR~~~

Wisps of smoke danced about a pale patrician face set like granite. Eyes the colour of fine aged cognac pinned that of nervous, cornered gray ones across the expansive desk that separated them in more than rank and power.

"What exactly were you thinking when you came up here last night without my permission, Guy?"

Bison's leader shrugged and eased back into the very familiar couch, long fingers coiled to strike as they lay against worn jeans.

Katze's perceptive eyes languidly followed the fidgety movement of his fellow mongrel with mild satisfaction, his own thighs tensed in anticipation of a move. Guy was shitting himself, but needed to maintain the fearsome façade, never a good sign. Still, this could work - without needless bloodshed on either of their parts.

"Waiting on you. How the fuck was I to know that you were 'busy' getting the shit fucked out of you and didn't want to be disturbed?"

_Or not_.

Guy was seriously trying his patience this morning and was a hair's breadth from having his ass kicked.

The red-head leaned forward in the plush leather desk chair, stubbed out his fourth smoke and reached for his own steaming coffee cup.

"Watch the tone, Guy."

A slow malicious smile curved full lips. For the first time Bison's leader saw a means of taking charge of the fairly tenuous situation. Katze was being inordinately quiet and watchful. By now he usually would have had his ass handed to him by one of his myriad thugs.

"Or what?" Guy drawled with a speculative narrowing of his eyes as he raked over the attractive, darkly clad male who sat across from him.

Bison's leader rose and approached the red-head seated behind the polished desk, his eyes settling on the bruised and slightly swollen cheekbone.

Katze's eyes followed his approach with a hint of unease, the fingers of one hand mere centimeters from the silent alarm secreted on the underside of the desk.

As if he knew, Guy stopped in front of the desk and raised his hands in feigned surrender.

"No need for that, Boss. I just wanna know something?"

The tension building in Katze's gut eased. He carefully sipped with a bland expression. Guy was a wild card, but useful. What would it hurt to hear him out before co-opting his silence? Neither of them stood to gain, if this got out.

He placed the cup down resolutely and looked up into the suspiciously hooded expression gracing the ruggedly care worn face. Guy was taking too careful an inventory of his features, possibly gagging his reaction to something he was about to ask.

"What?"

It was always best to keep your enemies closer, giving them a false sense of security. Only then did they fully give themselves over to mistakes; costly mistakes.

Guy leaned forward over the desk, his voice taking on a richer, warmer almost indulgent tone as he spoke.

"Do you like it rough, Boss?"

Feather light, swift and entirely unanticipated, the back of a warm hand brushed his bruised cheek causing it to sting.

Katze recoiled from the unwanted intimacy, his hackles rising as he struck out without conscious thought, forgetting about the wide wooden surface separating them. The same large palm effortlessly blocked his tightly curled fist.

"Don't **EVER** touch me, again. Not even in jest," the red-head hissed venomously and extricated his hand from Guy's slackened grip.

The chestnut-haired mongrel made no further move, instead selecting to perch on the side of the desk and handed Katze the open pack of Black Nocturnes as peace offering. It was rare to see any emotion from Katze of Midas.

"Well, Boss?"

"You're still alive because I need you," Katze whispered, barely keeping his breathing under control as he sat back in the chair and crossed his legs, feigning composure.

The black market dealer's jaws clenched and unclenched, searing pain shooting through his jaw, an ever present reminder of his mistake.

Instinctively, Katze reached for the filter tipped cigarette and accepted the pro-offered light, pale eyes looking through sooty lashes evaluating the man before him with the irritating smirk.

Full lips curved in a half smile as Guy closed the lighter and pocketed it.

"No. I'm alive because you are scared shitless that I could fuck to hell your nice coochy setup with the head of the Tanagura Syndicate."

Katze's expression gave nothing away. He exhaled a plum of smoke and sat in contemplative silence.

Despite Guy's thin grasp on reality and his propensity for psychotic violence, on rare occasions he did hit the nail on the head.

"What do you propose?"

Guy blinked, a cold shiver passed through his body at the silky soft question that held a veiled threat.

The black market dealer's face was once again unreadable, shrouded as it was in thin wisps of dancing smoke, eerily coiling about his head like serpents. Guy knew he would have to tread carefully with his words.

Katze never gave second chances.

~~~BMR~~~

A desultory glance given to the views that rapidly passed the tinted screen of the limo confirmed Raoul's suspicions.

Ceres did _not_ improve by daylight.

Things best kept under cover of darkness came to life, casting a gray pall upon the already decrepit buildings and its denizens who crept out of their fitful slumber into the gray light of day.

Elegant gloved fingers tapped the module's screen, dower expression set as he awaited a reply that never came. Katze was avoiding him.

Raoul gritted his teeth and closed the screen. It would not be long now and he would have his answer. True the pending shipment logs had been detailed to a fault accounting for the 'discretely acquired' genetic material essential for the next generation of Pets he intended to design.

The Elite's eyes narrowed in thought. There was one unaccounted for item under miscellaneous, something the casual eye could easily have overlooked. In fact it had been by his second in command.

He wanted an explanation and his glove, of course. There would be no other motive for returning to this dank, desolate place.

~~~BMR~~~

When Guy had regained consciousness at the bottom of the stairs, a dull thudding ache behind his eyes presaged quiet footfalls and the heat of a body hovering over his splayed form.

Gray eyes tried to focus with difficulty. He still could not understand why Katze had clocked him for so simple a suggestion. It wasn't as if he wouldn't have allowed the damn man to top on occasion. What was the big deal? He had gone for the main credit agreement, why make a big deal about a little variety in his sexual menu?

Raoul gazed at the prone male before retracing the trajectory of his fall and put two and two together. Someone, possibly the wiry little red-head himself, had not been well pleased with Bison's leader.

The Elite's lips quirked as he gingerly stepped over Guy and took the stairs two at a time. He needed to confirm his surmise.

~~~BMR~~~

The day was going to shit fast.

Katze crushed the now empty pack of cigarettes and flipped the controls of the ever present monitors off as he looked out onto the tiny balcony overlooking his impromptu garage where Stee was busy applying a bit of spit and polish to his vehicle for their afternoon meetings.

Okay so he had agreed to the bribe. A slightly larger cut of the weekly takings for Guy's continued silence but since when was he a whore? One simple mistake and he was back where he started, a fucking pawn in a game he had no control over.

His body would never be part of that deal.

The mere idea of Guy pawing him made his skin crawl with revulsion. He curled and uncurled his fist in anger. Damn it! That hurt too. His knuckles were red, painful and growing stiffer by the minute.

At this rate he would be nothing more than a bruise by end of day.

His fussy little man-servant had entered the room wordlessly with a gentle cough and left as quickly as he had come.

Katze turned, a rueful half-smile gracing his lips. Kato had earned his keep with an ice bucket half full with cubes and water, situated for his Master's convenience.

Amber eyes fell upon his cell next. _When_ had he turned that off? He owed Riki a call. Why in hell, did he keep feeding him with information about the reprobate even after all this time and without Iason's permission?

Guy had pretty much cost him his life and still he cared.

"Stupid kid."

Forgiveness had never been a strong suit of the ex-Furniture. A failing perhaps, but one he would have no issue living with. The kid was different. He had a good heart. Something Katze had long disposed of. It served no purpose.

He shook his head and looked out into the middle distance, the silence about him was excruciating. Without the comforting thrum of his monitors, an ominous silence settled about him auguring trouble.

The challenge was deciphering from whence it would come.

Uncharacteristically the lithe male threw himself on the couch and slouched dejectedly, uncaring that his imported linen trousers would now have an unacceptable crush. He still had to meet up with Iason in an hour for the weekly debrief.

Taking his uninjured hand, the red-head slowly pulled the ice bucket forward and plunged his throbbing fingers into it, gritting his teeth in agony with a slight curse; unaware that he was being observed by a pair of keen emerald green eyes.

Security would have to be doubled, effective immediately and a closer watch kept on Guy and his hoard when not on 'duty'. If it came to it, he would issue the order with extreme prejudice. Hell, he might just do it himself, if pushed. There would be no more overlooking Guy's minor indiscretions.

Placing the cold bucket in his lap, Katze shivered, now enjoying the discomfort as gooseflesh formed down his back, shocking him to the reality of the moment.

"What the fuck else could go wrong today?" he murmured to the unforgiving silence which unexpectedly answered him in rich silken tones.

"Well, for one you might be asked about a miscellaneous item that has, ever so discretely, managed to stow away on _my_ medical manifest."

The bucket and its contents crashed to the floor as well as its holder who lay blinking up at the tall, formidable Blondie who stood by the door with pursed lips.

Katze closed his eyes in resignation and willed his heart to stop racing. Better yet, how kind would it be for it to stop beating entirely, no such luck.

"Fuck …fuck…fuck me to hell and back…" Where was security when you needed them? Not that it would have stopped Raoul.

"Come, come now, little mongrel. There will be time enough to indulge your perverse fascination with copulation and the floor. Answer the question."

No question about it. This day had gone to shit and it didn't help that the inquisitor in question had pressed his broad back to the door as it hissed closed with a foreboding finality; nor did the red-head miss the assent to sexual favors in no way requested.

Katze gulped and hurriedly stood, brushing cubes of ice from places they really had no business being as Raoul's otherwise flawless countenance became less than bored. Verdant eyes taking a slow, precise inventory of the mongrel's flushed face, lean, taut body always tastefully accoutered.

Time slowed markedly for the black market dealer as his agile mind sought for a reasoned response. Unbeknownst to the Blondie, this time, perhaps the only time, he had found him out. Lowering his gaze and adjusting his stance Katze spoke in a smooth velvet tone, designed to appease.

"Master Am? How might I be of service?"

Raoul's gait was slow and even as he approached, gloved finger tips lifting the always diffident chin. "Answer the question, Katze. I'm not in the mood for you sycophantic fawning. Reserve that for Iason, your _former_ Master."

It was how the Blondie said '_former_' that caused the ex-Furniture to look up into piercing green eyes. It was in the feel of warm, smooth lips taking possession of his and a wet, hot tongue importunately demanding entry that foretold his demise as he acquiesced once again to the demands of his body.

It was also where he found an out; a believable one, while long tapered fingers smoothed over the curve of his ass and squeezed, pulling him fully into the power of that strong, hot body currently cleaving to his, making his pending desires known.

His mind slowly powered down; its main focus, the burgeoning thrum of another kind as their hips moved sinuously together and backward movement gave way to the feel of cool wood firm beneath his back.

Long pale fingers, of their own volition twined in the soft golden silk that shrouded his face, while an agile tongue explored his wet mouth languidly; perhaps he was a whore; but a selective whore to be exact. Right now however, there was the pressing matter of dry humping an Elite with a similar mindset.

~~~BMR~~~

"Drink this" was the gruff command as a strong hand held him up and hot liquid was forced into his mouth. Guy gagged in disgust.

"Little fucker. I'm trying to help you here. Drink it!"

Guy opened his uncooperative eyes and blinked, this time with success, slowly focusing on the bald pate of Katze's personal guard.

"Whh..at?" he answered groggily, looking about the darkened room. He was on a cot in one of the cells in the basement.

"Just drink it and leave. I don't have time for your bullshit. I need to get back upstairs before I'm missed."

Guy grasped the cup of bitter, hot liquid and sipped.

" I think you finally did it. The Boss never lifts his hand to anyone. What the fuck did you say to him?"

It was coffee. No wonder he felt sick. He never touched the filthy stuff; just as bad as water.

"Mind your own business, Baldy."

The cot listed as the guard's considerable weight shifted. "You're an idiot. You know that, right?"

It took getting use to, but the fog was clearing slowly with each sip. Not the headache though. "Huh?"

"The Boss hit you. He never hits. That's _my_ job."

Guy snorted, taking another cautious sip of the foul brew.

"Whatever…Still none of your business."

"Look fucktard, this is serious. Effective immediately, you and your gang have lost your privilege to freeload in the club."

For the first time, Bison's leader sobered. This wasn't good. So the attempted groping thing hadn't gone over well.

"He's just pissed. I'll make it up to him tonight when I pick up the new shipment."

A long silence followed as Guy watched the bodyguard rise, his shirt was still undone, revealing ink covering the greater part of a well muscled torso.

"You fucked up, kid. The job isn't yours anymore. You're crews been demoted to collecting bad debt."

Up and off the cot in under a second, Guy made for the door, unsuccessfully.

"Like hell we are!"

~~~BMR~~~

Katze moaned and stiffened. Raoul stilled. There was nothing even vaguely come hither about the soft groan that had escape the little mongrel's lips.

"Are you hurt?"

How irritating and just when he was getting to the heart of the matter.

"No, Master Am."

Raoul braced himself on his elbows and narrowed his eyes. "Don't lie. Did he _touch_ you inappropriately?"

Despite the ridiculousness of the query, Katze chuckled, a case of the pot calling the kettle black.

"Define inappropriate, Master Am?"

A gloved digit tapped the tip of his patrician nose in warning as he eased off the black market dealer's prone form and stood.

"You're good."

Katze's eyes followed the Blondie's graceful movements. Raoul seemed fascinated by the butter soft leather of his desk chair. A single gloved digit fingered its fine, supple texture before the Elite in question deigned to sit.

"Yes…you are good at applying just enough subjectivity to your statements to forestall possible retribution while leaving an acrid taste of unspoken censure in the mouth. Very good, indeed."

Raoul waved a gloved hand dismissively. "Get up. I am no longer interested in sampling you; adjust your clothing."

The red-head's eyes narrowed as he rose and faced the Elite. One too many times this morning, someone had overstepped.

"With respect, the item in question belongs to me and would have been accounted for. It in no way infringes on your time or shipment…Master Am. It was merely convenient and cost efficient."

The Blondie's lips quirked as a pale brow rose. "Two beats I think. Exactly two beats."

Katze's expression shifted to query while attempting to button his shirt. Two buttons were missing. Whatever game Raoul was playing this morning, he wasn't up for it.

"Master?"

"How long it took you to apply the honorific. It was exactly two beats."

Raoul steepled his fingers and looked about the office with a bored expression.

"Your pathetic way of challenging me, I suppose," he added indifferently.

"It's just music. Nothing worth your notice, Sir Am. If that is all?"

"No, it most certainly is not. Where is my glove?"

Even to Raoul's ear his retort sounded juvenile, perhaps even petulant. Still, he would not stand to be summarily dismissed as he had been the night before.

Katze blinked in disbelief. Why was Raoul irritated? "It was sent with the shipping manifest. If you do not find it, be assured it will be replaced today, my humble apologies, Master Am."

Green eyes narrowed. The supplicating stance Katze took was growing irritating to say the least, what with head bowed and curved shoulders that screamed obeisance. It did not suit the creature before him who had begun to tremble under his steady glare.

"Fine, I expect a replacement by end of day."

Katze inclined his head further with a grimace. Raoul showed no signs of leaving. He could feel the penetrating gaze and it was becoming unnerving.

"Surely, you have applied a cold compress or two. Taken something, even?"

"Not my speed. I like feeling things, even pain. Keeps it real, Master Am."

The derisive snort that greeted Katze's revelation caused the red-head to snicker softly. This wasn't something the Elite would ever understand, but that didn't matter.

"When will we take delivery?"

"In a few hours, Sir Am," the urge to re-iterate that this was all in the detailed documentation delivered before dawn was barely suppressed by thinned pale lips. Raoul was stalling but why?

"Why did you hit him?" The question was soft, too softly spoken.

Hooded amber refused to meet the questioning gaze. Katze shrugged, "Nothing of importance."

That low knowing chuckle, "None of my business, you mean. Still, I am mildly curious as to what would make an otherwise submissive, like you, strike another?"

"With all due respect…"

"Rephrase if you please. Every time you use those four irksome words, it grates. What inevitably follows is never _respectful_."

Katze sighed and turned his back on the Elite, uncaring of the possible repercussion. "I need a smoke."

"Third shelf, behind that cheap leather bound tome. It's not authentic by the way, merely a copy."

It hurt to look over his left shoulder as he carefully removed the book that protected his emergency stash. "I am well aware, Master Am. Thank you for the information."

"How many of those do you go through in the average day?"

Why were the questions so personal? What did Raoul want?

"Don't know…Master Am?" Katze lit the cigarette, inhaled the fragrant smoke, and leaned against the shelving, eyes closed, grateful for the temporary respite from that disconcerting gaze;

a moment to think without interruption.

A slow secretive smile came to Katze's full lips upon exhalation. Raoul was right. It was exactly two beats.

Warm breath ghosted across the black market dealer's face, while two warm fingers traced his bruised cheek, causing his skin to tingle and burn.

"I told you, two beats, exactly."

Katze leaned into the touch briefly, accepting the pain. "I'll work on it…Master Am."

"Repeated cold compresses, since you insist on being the stoic. Glove by end of day or there _will_ be repercussions. I prefer what I deem mine, to remain so…exclusively."

"Understood," Katze whispered as he heard the port hissed open once more and the swish of material faded along with Raoul's clean scent, "...Master Am."

**********

**Author's Note:**

*GRIN* Ever spiraling toward....but to what end? Only time will tell. I sincerely hope you enjoyed. I must say, this is my favourite chapter.

Namaste

**EP**


	9. Chapter 8

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws **with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: **Mature**

Parts:**WIP – 8 **of ?

_Reviews are fuel._

**Chapter 8 of ? – The Runaround **(Post OVA)

~~~BMR~~~

The alley was still damp. It always rained in the afternoon. You could set your chronometers by it.

Katze's lips quirked at the iron. Even here within the slums, nature attempted to cleanse, however half-heartedly.

He inhaled deeply of cloves and synthesized bergamot. It barely masked the sweet, sickly odor of decaying flesh. A dozen or so of his chosen swarmed in search of the remains. A message sent and delivered in his own inimitable way to the parties in question and their kin who dared to challenge the Black Market dealer's rule.

It was time for the cleanup before the lesser vermin, of the four legged variety, retrieved their bounty if they hadn't already.

Exotically tilted eyes narrowed; movement in his peripheral vision. Something or someone was behind that twitching blind. Katze's gait slowed as he relit his smoke with a casual flourish of wrist.

Donovan, his personal guard, never more than two steps ahead stilled as his boss' long elegant fingers discreetly pointed in the direction of the fluttering blind; a signal to retrieve the spectator for possible questioning.

The implosion of the door's frame was barely acknowledged by the Black Market dealer but for the slowing of his gait upon approach and the speculative gleam, quickly masked, as his eyes fell upon Donovan's broad back and the screeching quarry, a diaphanously clad male attempting to bite the hand of iron holding him in place.

Another escaped Pet, not long on the run by the looks of him. A little torn, and definitely used, somewhat emaciated but with a little work, food and a medical check, quite serviceable, once his tag was implanted.

"Tag him. See that he is fed and cleaned."

Amber eyes studied his most trusted, if not ally, relative partner in crime. Donovan nodded and slung the screaming, crying male over his shoulder and moved swiftly back toward the fleet of parked vehicles.

Donovan had spent an inordinate amount of time in the cell with Guy that morning. He had said not a word about it either.

Flicking the butt on the cracked walkway, Katze watched the bodyguard's progress meditatively before returning his attention to the other men in the alley way, still searching for the malodorous remains that perfumed the air.

He had to go, or he would be late.

The echo of quick, nervous footsteps from behind brought Katze from his reverie. It was Stee.

His pale face looked agitated as he handed the dealer the external com device.

"His Excellency wishes to speak with you, Sir."

Katze nodded and took the com. "Stay here. I'll drive myself."

Was it relief he saw in his chauffeur's face? Katze smothered the knowing smile. He didn't much like leaving his own lair to head to the towers of power either, but it was the price of his relative and continued autonomy.

~~~BMR~~~

Raoul' study was didactic series of contrasts to the few who had access to his private haven. The far corner boasted a low couch that clung to the walls opposite floor to ceiling windows overlooking the great city below.

An odd choice of placement to those predisposed to aesthetics alone, but that was neither here nor there to the Chief Medical Officer and geneticist of note within the Commonwealth.

The expansive view afforded his contemplative mind respite on those sleepless nights, plentiful of late, when nothing else would appease but the mesmerizing sight of Amoi's star speckled skies back lit by the ambient light of twin moons.

An ancient antique called a coffee table from a world thousands of years forgotten had seen many costly repairs, but still resided there despite the veiled censure of his furniture Deek, who loathed the item in question; its nicks and warp offending the supercilious servant's perfectionist sensibilities.

Imported, aromatic oils were applied ritualistically by the Master himself. The pleasingly subtle synthesized scents of cinnamon, bergamot, and sandalwood permeated the room and sometimes even his ungloved hands as he worked diligently, such as now.

It was calming to the Elite's exceptionally acute sense of smell.

A quiet cough from the doorway heralded the Furniture's presence at the door, dark brown eyes akin to basilisk as he observed his Master, white silken shirt partially undone and sleeves rolled, hands naked in plain view and a cloth, an actual cloth marred with dark oils held firmly within a large palm as the Master continued to rub the offensive item.

"What is it Deek?"

"Forgive the intrusion, Master," the dignified servant bowed deeply, "I merely wish to inquire as to when you wish your evening meal served?"

Raoul blinked. Had he been in here that long? He looked to the mauve sky without the windows. It was evening.

"Shortly," The Elite said dismissively then thought better of it. "No, I have notes to go through. Set my bath first and then see about having the meal brought here once I am ready."

Deek inclined his head a fraction more before giving the loathsome elongated wooden surface one final hateful glance.

"As you wish, Master."

~~~BMR~~~

Four hours.

Possibly the longest debrief in the history of their sometimes tenuous alliance. The query about his physical state and the vision he presented was almost enough to send the ex-Furniture over the edge toward the end.

Iason, always coolly circumspect, had been on form; his agile mind flitting from topic to topic impatiently, while pale eyes scanned the dealer, assessing the veracity of his verbal responses. This usually happened after communion with Jupiter.

Fortunately, Riki's timely intervention spared further personal inquiry as the conversation shifted focus back to the recent attempted incursions into their 'commercial' venture in Midas.

Katze's shoulders slumped in the relatively safe confines of his vehicle, his hand automatically reaching for a smoke. Energy reserves rapidly dwindling, he set the controls to autopilot and scanned the com for news of the delivery.

He needed one thing to go right today.

The red-head exhaled with relief as his eyes rapidly scanned the screen. A relief short lived as the open panel he reached into for his cigarettes provided an unanticipated offering, a clear box with a single pristine item, glaringly white against the dark paneling.

"Fuck."

The urge to smack himself senseless against the hard metallic dashboard and have done with his pathetic existence was only overridden by one fact. He didn't need Raoul Am on his ass anymore than he already was. How had he forgotten that Stee was to make this delivery?

He would have to do it himself. No choice and what was more, his own shipment had gone AWOL in the mix. Someone had appropriated it. Two guesses as to whom, Katze thought irritably, with the flimsy excuse of some newly enforceable security protocol.

The pain in his clenched jaws served its purpose, only barely alleviating the anger he felt in the pit of his stomach. A quickly tapped message to Donovan; a perfunctory response in the affirmative confirmed what he already knew.

Raoul had found another way to fuck with him.

Katze gazed beyond the tinted screen at the twin moons and tried to temper his seething rage with reason. It could be worse. He could have had it destroyed on principle. Instead the irritating bastard had chosen to hold it hostage.

"Over a fucking glove, Raoul?!" Katze slammed his fists on the dash in frustration and groaned as his mind searched for alternatives but found none. His damn fingers were throbbing again. What the fuck did it matter anyway?

Katze cut the engine and gathered the box, pocketing it and looked up towards the glowing towers with trepidation. There was the slim chance that Raoul might not be home and the hand off could take place with his Furniture.

"Might as well get it over with," he murmured to himself approaching the entrance, his usual diffident expression firmly in place as he lowered his gaze a fraction upon approach and steeled himself for whatever might await. They might have him in servitude, but he would deny them his soul.

~~~BMR~~~

Eying the metallic surface of the nondescript item that sat atop his desk, Raoul's brows furrowed. By all rights, he could open it. He had the authority after all, but he had other plans.

He sipped the chilled wine and lazily watched Deek lay out the evening meal, as ordered, atop the coffee table; an extra setting and utensils laid discreetly to one side.

"Will there be anything else, Master Am?"

The bath had been a boon after a tiring day. He had not felt the need to dress. A simple silken robe sufficed for modesty's sake. He rather liked the color, if truth be told, it so closely matching his eyes.

"No, you may attend to your own needs, Deek. I will take it from here."

Brown eyes held curiosity but masked it, turning instead towards the door.

"Oh and Deek," Raoul's level gaze pinned the servant in place, "just to be clear, I will require nothing further of you tonight. Take this rare opportunity to enjoy the comforts of your quarters until such time as I have need of you."

The elder servant bowed deeply and retreated on silent feet.

~~~BMR~~~

Quietly, the elevator doors opened, revealing a well appointed hall with two doors at opposing ends of the floor. Katze pursed his lips. If he chose the servant's entrance, that could be taken as a slight, but equally, it would guarantee no Raoul.

Amber eyes drifted to the more stately entrance.

The Furniture would be the one to greet him regardless of which approach he took. The formal entrance however did have a wild card based on interior layout alone. Beyond the great doors was the open space, reserved for the entertainment of guests, furthering the likelihood of an encounter with, if not Raoul, then other Elites in attendance.

Katze smirked. Raoul would not appreciate that in the least, considering the clear packaging. Possibly embarrassing questions would be asked; conjectures had.

Choice made, Katze turned toward the servant's entrance, glad of the unexpected reprieve.

"Have you an appointment with Deek? I wasn't aware you knew each other socially, Katze."

Turning swiftly to face the disembodied voice, Katze came face to chest with the softest of silken material that made his fingers itch to touch. He blinked, completely caught off guard by Raoul's proximity, his scent.

"I did not wish to disturb your evening, Master Am," the Black Market dealer murmured, keeping his gaze averted as he pointedly handed the box to the Elite, who chose to ignore the gesture.

"Likely story."

Mesmerized, Katze watched as the hem of the green silk robe drifted through the open doors and the lingering scent of warmed sandalwood wafted to his nostrils.

Katze gritted his teeth in anger. The pro-offered box still lay in his open palm untouched.

"Come if you are coming, don't be tiresome. I'm hungry."

**********

**Author's Note:**

Chapter nine is going to be a quite the sumptuous experience....stay tuned. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. This is a hell of a fun ride with two of my favourite characters. Let me know what you think.

Namaste

**EP**


	10. Chapter 9

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws **with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: **Mature – NC -17ish**

Parts:**WIP – 9 **of ?

_Reviews are fuel._

_**A_ngua...Enjoy!**_

**Chapter 9 of ? – Body Language **(Post OVA)

~~~BMR~~~

Dutifully the dealer followed the silken hem of Raoul's robe, eyes casting about in veiled curiosity at the warm autumnal hues of plush carpeting, richly appointed furnishings and strategically placed artwork of differing eras, styles and textural grace, a veritable feast for the eyes.

Esoteric, warm perhaps even sensual, in no way staid, the red-head thought abstractedly, nervously adjusting his bang and beginning to feel self-conscious and definitively out of place.

This was Raoul's realm and danger lurked in each well appointed, luxuriant corner such as the one they took now, the faint sounds of flowing water becoming more resonant with each step down the dimly lit corridor.

Fuck he needed a cigarette. Where was Deek?

Raoul abruptly turned to face the ex-Furniture as though hearing his thoughts.

Emerald eyes appraised Katze slowly from head to toe then back again before turning and continuing down the darkened hall, pointing casually just beyond what appeared to be an alcove.

"The facilities; make use of them."

Doubly self conscious now because of the commanding tone, Katze furtively gazed at his reflection when he passed one of the numerous mirrors that festooned the hall.

Even at a glance, he could see he looked like shit. No wonder, Iason had been inquisitive as to his current state of health. Katze knew full well that Iason saw him as nothing more than an investment. One the Blondie did not wish to become a liability and had said as much.

The dealer sighed and instinctively passed a hand through his hair, suddenly exceedingly aware of the scar running down his jaw line.

"Thank you, Master Am, for your thoughtfulness. I will not be staying."

The silence was palpable as the Elite turned to face the darkly clad male currently avoiding his gaze.

Katze lowered his eyes. Raoul's thinned lips spoke volumes, but he had to go on.

"I have urgent business on behalf of his Excellency that requires my immediate presence in Midas."

A lie to be sure, but not one easily disproved. An out from what Katze suspected was going to be a long night with an inevitable end, further complicating his life.

Unfortunately, Katze thought while a swirling maelstrom of green bore down on him with inhuman speed, hindsight was twenty-twenty. The pincer like grip on his right wrist, as he was hauled unceremoniously through the doors of said facilities, soon dispelled any further thoughts of subterfuge or an easy escape.

"Remove your clothing or I will." Raoul hissed as he slung the dealer into the room. "Do not defy me further, Katze."

~~~BMR~~~

Kato pursed his lips, unsure of what to do. The Master had not returned, still in Eos by all accounts. The meal was ruined of course and it was unlikely he would have eaten it anyway.

Huffing softly, he scanned the private sanctum of his Boss and determined to sort his bedroom and toiletries. True, there was a schedule to these things, but he knew, whenever he came in the first thing on the dealer's agenda would be a bath, then a check in with his number one, Donovan, perhaps a drink while he picked at the delicacies well prepared and tested by Kato himself.

Katze had said it was a precautionary measure, but the elderly servant knew better.

He rubbed his belly in delight and eyed the covered tray on the desk with longing. Since his indenture he had managed to gain a few pounds, feasting on delights he could only have imagined previously. Food of the Gods as the kitchen staff had termed it.

He knew better, so much better, he thought as he touched the panel that revealed the bedroom's portal in aid of his Master's comfort. It was the least he could do.

A gentle smile touched the careworn face as he changed the bed clothing, selecting the deep green silk sheets that the Master favored, ignoring the tell tale signs of intimacy with a roguish smile. Efficiently he pooled the used sheets at the foot of the large, luxurious bed.

His life was owed to the delicate featured man, with a will of steel who had broken rules to save him, providing care for a life not valued by any in the guise of business. He had lucked out in his Master, who had proven silent but generous to a fault.

Kato sighed and carefully, reverently removed the rumpled sheets, folding them and placing them by the bathroom door. It was next.

Many a time they had conversed in this space. Instructions given, the scent of warm aromatic oils wafting gently in the steam filled room that would always be his Master's respite from the taxing aspects of his day-to-day schedule.

The elder man looked about him proprietarily, neat as a pin. Then again, it always was; the only evidence of the Master's presence within this private space, the faint aroma of his preferred scent.

Kato shook his head indulgently and retrieved the open bottle, something finally occurring to him about the peculiar habit of his Master who always forgot to cap his cologne after use.

So often had this oversight occurred the sensual fragrance permeated every porous surface with Katze's inner sanctum.

Kato smiled. The Master missed nothing. This was intentional. A self created oasis or as Donovan crudely but accurately put it, the Boss was pissing on his property.

In deference, he carefully returned the open bottle to its previous position and set about neatening the area and sorting essentials for efficiency's sake. The Master would not have it otherwise.

~~~BMR~~~

Cold.

It was all that the Black Market dealer felt, standing naked and bereft of dignity, his clothing pooled about his feet while Raoul circled him slowly with a curiously bemused expression.

"Sit." The Elite commanded, pointing to the chaise nearest the sunken bath. The red-head bent to retrieve his clothing.

"Leave them. Sit."

How many times, had he issued the same order to newly acquired Pets in the service of his then Master? How many times had he done the same to those in his current service?

Dignity wasn't optional for those in servitude. He did as he was told, if only for expediency's sake.

Pale amber eyes, well hidden beneath thick sooty lashes, watched in fascination the graceful efficient movements of the Elite as he examined and poured a variety of powders in a clear vial, concocting a blend that finally met with his approval before then sprinkling the now azure blue mixture into the running bath.

Katze blinked, suddenly realizing Raoul's intent.

Surreptitiously he glanced at the Elite who seemed pre-occupied with a bottle of dark viscous liquid. Katze stretched and took a quick sniff of an armpit. He didn't smell. At least that was something. He couldn't think why that should matter, but it did.

"Get in the bath, Katze."

The red-head glared daggers at the broad silk swathed back, unaware he was being observed through the reflective surface of the far wall.

"Don't make me repeat myself, little Mongrel."

Katze sighed aloud in resignation and glanced at the dark blue water with suspicion. It did have a pleasing scent though, he thought, tentatively sticking a toe in and testing the temperature before fully easing his tired body into the pulsing stream of soothing liquid.

He might as well enjoy it. The dealer stretched languidly and closed his eyes, avoiding the pensive gaze of the green clad individual, now elegantly seated on the chaise.

"How did you acquire those bruises?" the Elite pointed casually at the dealer's chest. "I saw no evidence of them yesterday."

One amber eye opened lazily, uncaring at the moment that the male in question could just as easily drown him out of spite for not answering promptly. His body had grown unaccountably leaden. His mind began to wander and all pretense of deference faded in his sleepy reply.

"Does it truly matter, Master Am?"

The deep murmured reply came from a seemingly great distance and required no answer, or so the soft indulgent chuckle that followed implied. Something warm touched his face. Lazily Katze batted at the feather light yet persistent touch.

All sentient thought faded and the hard protective carapace worn by the dealer gave way to the blissful soothing warmth that enveloped his tired body.

~~~BMR~~~

It was tepid, slick and bitter to his tongue.

Katze convulsively spat the foul tasting liquid into the lukewarm water and wiped his mouth. He sat up abruptly and looked about him, trying to get his bearings. He must have fallen asleep. His head swam as he tried to recall what had transpired. More importantly where was Raoul?

The red-head gritted his teeth, eyes growing suddenly wide. No pain.

"What in hell?"

Instinctively he felt his face. It was sticky and cold. He wiped at the slick unguent on his cheek and glared at the dark tincture on his fingers in consternation; the same fingers previously swollen and bruised.

He flexed them tentatively.

No pain anywhere.

Frightened, the red-head slowly stood and regarded his reflection properly in the full length mirror opposite. No bruising either, from what he could see, just gooseflesh as his rapidly cooling body began to shiver.

Where the fuck was his clothing and where in hell was Sir Am? Why had the Elite allowed him to sleep unhindered?

Amber slits looked about suspiciously finally landing on the chaise where a robe had been placed the color of a burnished sunset. Aggravated beyond measure, the dealer hurriedly splashed his face and stepped out of the tub, roughly toweled himself dry and glared at the mirror. It was probably a two way.

"Manipulative Bastard," the red-head murmured and eyed the strategically placed toiletries upon the vanity, undoubted meant for his use. His lips quirked at the sheer perversity of the predicament he found himself in as his eyes fell upon the robe.

He fingered the gossamer thin material appreciatively. It was positively decadent in its silky smoothness and what was more, the damn thing left nothing to the imagination.

"Pervert."

Adjusting the rather long sleeves that threatened to envelope his lithe yet well muscled form, the dealer regarded his reflection.

It did suit his coloring and cast a honeyed hue to his unusually pale skin.

There was always a price for the smallest of luxuries he thought, steeling himself while carefully tucked the billowing floor length sleeves and tightened the sash, knotting it twice about his lean waist before heading for the door.

"Not this time if I can help it, Raoul," he whispered to the close sepulchral darkness, unaware he had spoken the Elite's given name aloud as he made his way down the dim, meandering hallway toward the amber light seeping from beneath closed doors at the end of the corridor.

Eyes accustomed to the dark narrowed on the light source briefly, while long pale fingers continued to feel along the cool smooth walls for the concave dip he knew was there, marking the entrance to the alcove and the sound of running water.

Despite a strong feeling of foreboding, curiosity got the better of the dealer as he stealthily crept forward on silent feet, determined to find the source of the sound. Too late, he inadvertently tripped what he now knew had to have been a motion sensitive beam beyond the visual cortex which flooded the area with soft ambient light.

Katze froze mid curse, golden eyes entirely transfixed as a foreboding tremor shot through his body.

Oh, he had found the source of the gentle soothing burble. His ears had not deceived him, but perhaps his eyes were in the moment, but this was not a dream.

Beyond the water feature that gently spiraled heavenward in an iridescent plume of cascading light hung a portrait.

A Ruby dressed in alien regalia, seated upon an ornate chair of equally unknown origins. His stoic countenance gentled by atypically expressive yellow eyes and the most luxuriant of silken tresses thrown casually over one broad shoulder forming its own cascade, coiling gracefully to his lap.

"Exquisite."

The word was out before Katze, could stifle it.

"He was that and brilliant. Well beyond his caste," was the whisper soft response by the dealer's cheek.

Surprised by the unusually somber tone and Raoul's proximity, Katze turned toward the radiating warmth that was Raoul Am's body in hopes it would quell the inexplicable chill the portrait's existence instilled.

"Was, Master Am?"

Unguarded amber sought an answer to his query in the closed verdant pools currently studying the curve of his lips. Said dark green eyes continued their languid journey, taking in the occupant of the robe with prurient delight, entirely ignoring the question.

"Irrelevant."

Self consciously the dealer's face flushed and he lowered his gaze, as was appropriate under the circumstances. He knew that look well enough and would not fall pray to it again by encouraging it. At least that is what he told himself, ignoring the heating of his own flesh in response to that penetrating gaze.

The Elite turned sharply on his heels and waved a dismissive hand in the direction of the portrait, well pleased, Katze had received the message loud and clear as to the purpose of his presence there.

"Come. I intend to make use of you this evening."

No. Dignity was never an option for those who in service.

The cold Katze had felt in his bones returned in a rush as his feet silently carried him forward into the deceptive warmth of the amber glow beyond the doors.

Damn but he needed a smoke. This just wasn't his day or night for that matter.

~~~BMR~~~

Quietly at first, just beyond hearing, a familiar musical refrain graced the mongrel's ears as he stood stock still in the doorway with bowed head and fumed privately. The Elite had opened his prize after all. What was meant to be a small secret joy, shared with nothing but the private space within his own bedroom, intentionally destroyed by a Blondie's whim.

Katze privately seethed. Raoul was also intentionally ignoring him and had been for the last few minutes while he ate. Enough was enough. How long did he expect him to stand there? His stomach gurgled loudly, the gentle strains of an ancient instrument slowly rising.

"What do you wish of me, Master Am?"

Pale, livid amber darted in the direction of the rich deep snorted response.

"I would think that obvious, Katze. I intend to fuck you after this light and most delectable of repasts. I must say Deek has outdone himself this evening," was the bored, matter-of-fact reply between sips of wine and a delicate dab of napkin to full lips.

The red-head's nails dug deeper into his already sore palms.

"Be so good as to come in fully and close the doors behind you. No point standing vigil at the door looking affronted and virginal. I've dispensed with that."

Narrowed amber slits briefly met surprisingly amused jewel toned orbs. He might have known. Raoul had been watching him all along in the antique mirror above the large imposing desk.

"A precautionary measure to be sure since you have a tendency to be," Raoul waved his wineglass about casually as he sat back on the couch and weighed the rest of his sentence, "somewhat vocal and surprising lewd in your descriptive and imperative demands when reaching your peak."

Green eyes surveyed the faint blush gracing the long elegant neck and beckoned the mongrel forward with a single digit. It was rather amusing how those sun-kissed eyes flashed defiantly before retreating coyly beneath ridiculously thick lashes.

"As I was saying before being glared at in that manner, though an excellent catalyst for my own culmination, I do not wish to cause undue alarm for my elderly Furniture, who has led a rather cloistered existence."

Katze reddened at the implication and averted his gaze to the low table, unconsciously wetting his lips. He was hungry but he needed a smoke more than ever.

Raoul's lips quirked knowingly, intrigued by the play of emotions upon that exquisitely formed face. Katze was dying to consume one of those cigarettes of his. The nervous twitch of long fingers within the pockets of the robe equally amused, while soft lips were licked repeatedly and even white teeth bit into the generous fleshy lower one.

God, he wanted him. Nothing would please the Elite more than to be buried to the hilt in that tight, slick channel of muscle, mindlessly thrusting as their damp skin made contact and the little mongrel moaned in pleasure and tightened in answer to his thick shaft plundering his depths.

The Blondie crossed his long limbs in an attempt to stave off the sudden rising tension within his lower body as best he could. Now if he could just do the same with the loud, rapid thrum of his heart in his ears as his mouth went dry.

He refilled his wine glass and swigged it.

Katze blinked at the inelegant sight, before dark-honey eyes narrowed in understanding.

Raoul was getting horny and was trying to maintain control of the urge - Pompous Ass, instead of having done with it. At least where he came from it would be over in a few minutes, without fear or favor.

Hard credit for services rendered.

He had watched this game played out often enough while monitoring existing clients with a taste for the unusual, fully enjoying the sensual skills of his workers.

.

"Come. Sit at my feet."

Pulled from his musings by the sudden shift in Raoul's tone of voice, the mongrel inclined his head and carefully approached the seated figure, hiding his own burgeoning interest while elegantly shifting the voluminous robe's hem as he gracefully sat with eyes cast down.

Katze held his breath and awaited the Elite's next prompt.

None came, just the feel of soft breath against his cheek, the scent of clean skin and warmed sandalwood as deft fingers carefully blindfolded him with the softest of cool silk.

Katze licked his lips nervously. "Master Am, what are you doing?"

A sigh of boredom, warm breath mere centimeters from his own lips, "I believe we've covered that."

"With all due…"

Raoul tisked in feigned displeasure…"We've covered that too, little one, be patient."

A gentle nip of censure to the mongrel's lower lip while smooth, hot finger tips dipped beneath the robe and slid the filmy material from taut, trembling shoulders, sending a delicious tremor through the lithe male.

"You'll find obedience is rewarded, Katze."

The red-head hissed as strong teeth captured the soft skin of a lobe and wandering hands slowly meandered up velvety smooth well-muscled thighs, finally coming to rest suggestively at the apex of his sex, riffling the soft auburn curls found there.

"Yes, Master."

Dear God, he could hear the pleading tone in his own voice and the Blondie hadn't even gotten to the good part, yet.

Katze rolled his hips forward encouraging intimate contact, yet receiving none in answer to the unspoken request.

Perhaps he should have taken Guy up on his offer or some other male to scratch this irrepressible itch as his balls tightened and rose.

Anyone but Raoul Am he thought unconvincingly as his traitorous hands spanned broad shoulders whose muscles rippled obediently beneath his own touch. God damn it, he was on his back again. How in God's name did the bastard manage to do this to him so easily, he thought, while traitorous limbs surrendered and coiled about the Elite's waist, pulling the Blondie's body closer to his own.

~~~BMR~~~

He felt followed.

Not that it was anything new, but today, today Guy felt hunted. Perhaps it was just guilt but the echoing footsteps, mirroring his down side street, didn't help. What did was the feel of the laser dagger within his pocket, just in case.

Guy's lighter flared as he stopped to light a needful smoke, grey eyes lazily darting back and forth checking the perimeter, eventually resting on shadowy movement.

As he suspected, he was being followed back to Bison's newly acquired lair.

Two possible choices; a rival or one of Katze's goons keeping an eye; the latter much preferred.

"Come out where I can see you."

Silence.

A slow exhalation, as his bravado kicked in. "Don't make me come to you. You won't like it if I do."

More silence, then a long suffering sigh from his immediate right.

"No question about it, you have a death wish."

Guy spun.

"How've you survived this long?"

He had been wrong. The answering tired rumble came from in front of him. He spun in fright, caught by familiar large hands that pinned his shoulders to the wall.

"Why are you out here in enemy territory, without backing?"

Guy bristled as he looked up at the formidable figure dressed in black, not bothering to resist. He was just too tired.

Donovan's voice lowered to a preternatural whisper, "Where's your shadow Sid?"

Bison's leader blanched, looking up into a surprising familiar expression of exasperation. Where had he seen that before?

"Well? He's not in your hideout, which I might add, as far as holdups go, is a piece of shit. Anyone can breach its perimeter and remain undetected."

"Fuck you, Asshole!"

Katze's number one snickered and pinned the smaller male with hard muscular thighs against the cold, slick wall. "Told you, little boy, not interested. I'd rip you apart."

"Yeah right, I've taken bigger than you."

Guy regretted his jeering words instantly. Donovan's face hardened menacingly as he learned forward and sniffed at Guy's neck.

"You stink, little boy. I like my bed warmers clean."

Defensive, not something Guy thought he would ever feel, but he did. Was that why Katze had rejected him earlier? His eyes narrowed, a malevolent curve graced his lips as he leered challengingly at the towering, thick set male.

"Whatever, Baldy, keep dreaming. We all don't have the privilege of running water or a comfy existence. Some of us scrounge for a living, in case you've forgotten."

Blank, hard blue eyes regarded the chestnut haired mongrel.

Guy grinned, true to form never knowing when to leave well enough alone. He was winning; the hard press of strong thighs eased off his.

"I'd imagine you'd be grateful for anything, considering you'd last about two minutes in the sack anyway."

"That's it!"

Excruciating pain, it was all Guy felt.

A fist connected with his jaw and air left his lungs in a rush as he was thrown against a parked vehicle and pinned by the minder's greater body weight. Guy snarled in anger at being manhandled for the second time that day by the bodyguard.

The sound of a zipper's slide and a guttural moan, punctuated by his jeans being roughly wrenched down about his ankles, made perfectly clear Donovan's intent.

"You better pray I only last two minutes, little boy."

Guy frantically squirmed just as a thick gloved finger roughly entered him, causing Bison's leader to wince and plead.

"Please don't, Donovan. Please, I'm sorry, not out here. Everyone'll see. I have a rep you know?"

Guy's plea was met with a lascivious moan and another thick digit's intrusive prodding followed the first, scissoring the resistant channel of muscle.

"Oh yeah Baby, you're gonna be a nice, tight fuck."

Despite the roughness, it felt good. He heard the guard spit and knew why.

"Best I can do kid under the circs."

Guy gritted his teeth and willed himself not to scream. He couldn't lose face, not now, not ever. He had his self respect and it would not be denied by another's hitched breathing, or the sharp pain of a hot, heavy appendage pounding his ass.

Tears welled behind tightly closed eyes. It would feel good soon. He just had to wait.

Just had to wait, he told himself while Donovan shifted behind him, pulling his naked hips back to meet his girth with a muffled oath in praise of Jupiter as Guy surrendered, following the rhythm set.

"At a boy….nice….ride it baby…ride Donny's cock."

~~~BMR~~~

He liked it.

Sticky and sweet with a bitter aftertaste, Katze extended his tongue in hopes of more and groaned in frustration. The delicacy continued to elude him. God he hated the man. He had started this game and now took delight in torturing him with tiny morsels.

Just enough to pique the palette, his ass, the Elite was just a sick fuck. He wanted more.

Keeping the sweet just out of reach of that soft pink tongue, Raoul chuckled at the irritated moan and furrowed brows. The urge to kiss those parted lips about to pout was far too enticing to resist and so he did, after popping the last of the rich sweet in his own mouth.

The hungry tongue that snaked in his mouth in pursuit of its delicious quarry sent a sullen jolt of need through his loins as the lithe male shifted on his lap and thrust against his abdomen meaningfully.

Drink agreed with Katze, particularly on an empty stomach.

Raoul filed the tidbit away for future reference and painted the soft, wet lips with the last of sticky substance as reward.

"It's called chocolate and in some cultures it is considered an aphrodisiac." Raoul whispered against the smooth warm skin of Katze's neck, well pleased with the shiver it caused as he nipped the mongrel gently and traced the outline of his Adam's apple with the tip of a hot tongue.

"Mmmm… so good, please… I want more, Raoul."

The Elite opened his eyes, shocked and mildly affronted by the familiar usage of his given name by the male seated astride his lap, nuzzling his cheek.

"Paint your cock with it, Master Am."

Strong hands grasped the red-head's hips, keeping them still.

Katze sighed. Apparently he had done something wrong, again. Fuck the man was mercurial. Isn't this exactly what he wanted? His cock sure as hell said so, never missing an opportunity to grind against his ass suggestively.

As far as games went, it had been somewhat frightening at first what with the blindfold, but Raoul had made no sick demands, instead selecting to feed him at his leisure, requiring only the odd kiss in exchange.

No question about it, the Elite was orally fixated and a damn good kisser too. Katze mentally shrugged. It wasn't unpleasant, far from it as his unruly cock could attest.

Confused, the Elite regarded the blindfolded man, his anger spiking without reason. He could barely suppress the growing need to strike the man absently carding his hair with contemplatively furrowed brows.

Katze winced. Raoul's grasp was becoming decidedly painful.

"Master Am, please, you're hurting me."

Emerald eyes narrowed with malice. "Get off me, you filthy little cur."

Blood drained from the dealer's face. The deafening hiss of the Elite's words reverberated within his head. Who knew a blindfold would be his saving grace? He did not wish to ever see those hate filled eyes.

Katze stumbled as he hurriedly rose, tripping on the hem of his disheveled robe. Instinctively, the mongrel curled into a tight ball of tense muscle, prepared for the inevitable strike as the Elite stepped over him and padded away, returning just as swiftly.

"You have five seconds to get dressed and get out."

Billowing material that bore his distinctive scent shrouded his body. Katze clutched the items to his chest as he stood and carefully removed the silken cloth about his eyes.

Quietly, the mongrel dressed while the Elite stood vigil by the floor to ceiling windows, admiring the view.

Things were finally back to normal. It felt good to be dressed in clothing of his own choosing, the black market dealer thought, adjusting the sleeves of his outer coat. The cold chill he felt within was comforting.

"Thank you, Sir Am, if you require nothing further I will see myself out."

Raoul turned and blinked in consternation at the obsequious tone that belied the mongrel's stiff countenance and rigid back. It was as though nothing untoward had occurred between them. The eyes that met his briefly were opaque and devoid of emotion.

A curt bow and the lithe male turned on his heel, leaving as silently as he had come.

The Elite's eyes followed the silhouette as it faded from his immediate view and listened for the sound that never came.

"Once a Furniture; always a Furniture."

They did everything in silence, even the act of closing a door.

Raoul sighed, taking comfort in the exquisite view beyond the windows as he refilled his wine glass, pointedly stepping over the folded robe, left on the carpet and the clear package that had found its way there.

Well at least the damn glove had been returned. That was something anyway. He sipped the wine.

Luke warm, entirely unpalatable.

**Author's Note:**

Not quite what you probably expected, but trust me…this happens for a damn good reason. Have patience and I sincerely, sincerely hope you enjoyed. Oh and some of your comments leave me spellbound. So intuitive, so very intelligently observant, I am eternally gratified and humbled by your kindness. Just today, I got the most wonderful review. The individual felt very much like they were in my head and got what I was trying to say about the pathos expressed here. It is a dull, constant in all their lives and she or he got it. Really got it and it resonated with the person in question. Again, constantly amazed at the depth of perception of the readers. No, this isn't a flippant little piece and it isn't always sunshine. I do hope you find it darkly beautiful. Guy is very pathetic in this piece and his sadness, particularly within his encounter is so desperately sad and resigned and I thank you for understanding that. He has but one thought...it has to get better. That wasn't a must. It was a fate dearly wished and the only thing he had to hold on to. Again, you guys blow me away by understanding the context here. Entirely humbled.

Thank you for not being facile. See you soon.

**EP**


	11. Chapter 10

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws **with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: **Mature – NC -17ish**

Parts:**WIP – 10 **of ?

_Reviews are fuel._

_xxx_

**Chapter 10 of ? – Perfectly Imperfect **(Post OVA)

~~~BMR~~~

A dreamless sleep, he was thankful for it. In fact he hadn't slept so soundly in ages. Tired muscles and an equally tired mind sought comfort and had found it in the somnolent haze of sleep.

Katze almost purred in delight at the reassuring feel of the body warmed silk beneath him. Amber eyes opened sleepily and drifted to the skylight in the dimness that was not quite dawn, his long legs sliding across the slippery sheets like an indolent feline.

This was his, this hallowed cocoon. The world lay beyond that portal, ready to rip at him as the Elite had done just hours before simply because he could.

As if a cool breeze had entered the stillness of his bedroom, Katze shivered, brought to full wakefulness by the harsh memory of that summary dismissal, possibly for some imagined breach in the peculiar game the Blondie was playing. A game with rules only the Elite was apparently privy to.

That pleasurably indolent haze had lifted with the recollection, his angular jaw line grew rigid as pale eyes resentfully followed the progress of a single beam of sunlight that crept stealthily onto the sheets, causing the emerald green silk to shimmer playfully in the otherwise darkened room.

"Prick."

His fingers fumbled with the knob of the bedside table and quickly grasped the controls that would shutter the skylight, vanquishing the importunate beam before its radiant glow overtook the sheets.

He wasn't ready for the day to begin. Darkness was preferable.

A soft knock, he would have to address Kato's flawless sense of timing. The man always knew when he was awake. It seems the elder servant had made a study of his boss' habits. Either that or he was stalking him with some motion sensitive device.

If it were anyone else, it would be dangerous, but Kato was a comfort of sorts.

"Come in, Kato."

The faintest of smiles touched pale lips while he lazily donned his robe. "You better have coffee with you or I won't be held responsible."

Kato listened for the telltale click in his earpiece signaling the release of the pressurized lock that safeguarded the dealer's privacy.

Dark eyes twinkled in the dim light. This game they played each weekend morning never lost its luster and boded well that the Master was in a much better mood than a few hours before, when polite requests had been met with stony silence and a sharp retort and commanding dismissal.

"I have brought you a carafe and your portable com, Mister Katze."

The red-head adjusted his pillows and prepared his lap for the tray.

Kato looked especially pleased with himself. There was undoubtedly a surprise under that lid. The man lived for food.

"Good Man. So how do you intend to poison me this morning?"

Kato straightened, looked suitably aggrieved as he inspected the bedroom and busily began to retrieve the items of clothing atypically discarded on the carpeting.

"Dry toast, a nutritional supplement and fruit, Mister Katze."

The dealer lifting amused eyes slowly to regard the annoyed man who was carefully folding clothing with a put upon expression.

"What, no Bolian rashers purchased at _my_ great expense from that thieving vendor you favor?" Katze queried off handedly while eyeing the display of his com. Kato was so easy to catch.

A mildly indignant huff was barely suppressed as the little man moved towards the bathroom to prepare the dealer's bath.

"I took the liberty of assuming you would not be inclined toward anything exotic this morning, Master."

Kato took such pride in his presentations, it was almost impossible to resist teasing him on occasion.

Pale eyes studied the clients serviced and the bar's takings with a satisfied nod. Just one night without Guy's freeloading crew had produced considerable savings on complimentary narcotics alone. Next on the agenda, the off-world shipment for the upcoming Exotic Pet Auction, Donovan would see to that.

"It appears we had a good night."

"Yes, you did, Mister Katze. The new acquisition should be ready to hold his own soon. He cleaned up well but is somewhat quiet. Would you like me to arrange the usual, introduction to his duties?"

The black market dealer nodded distractedly and narrowed his eyes at the rapidly scrolling display of figures, two, possible three discrepancies not in their favor.

"Yes, give me a few hours. First I need to speak with Donovan about changes in personnel."

The silence that followed the simple statement was palpable. Lying had never been Kato's forte.

Katze eyes narrowed further as he looked up at the nervously hovering figure. "Kato, where is Donovan?"

~~~BMR~~~

Hovel.

It was the only word that came to mind for Donovan as cold blue eyes scanned the dark, sad little room, Guy called home.

A lounge chair, in advanced disrepair, occupied the bottle strewn corner closest to the window, its innards moldy and by current appearance damp. Perceptive eyes looked up at the dark rotting ceiling where rain water regularly seeped through.

"You can have the cot, if you want to sit. It's dry."

Donovan continued to lean against the wall, thankful for his coat. He really did not want to make skin contact with it either. By appearances what passed for a sheet and a makeshift pillow had never seen water.

"No thanks, just wanted to see you _**home**_."

"Such as it is, Baldy?"

"You just keep pushin' and pushin', don't ya, little man?"

The bodyguard snorted and eased off the wall, his eyes falling on the one interesting item on the bed, a rather expensive toy for one such as Guy, clearly stolen. The serial number had been cleanly removed by laser.

"What? You got more for me, already? No thanks. I think you almost busted something, big boy," the disembodied voice retorted with a chuckle.

The man just didn't learn.

"I'm going. Just remember to be at the club in three hours, the boss wants to talk with you. Don't fuck it up this time. He doesn't give second chances."

Donovan turned casually toward the doorway to check Guy's proximity as he pocketed the device and sauntered down the hall to the partially turned door of the communal facility.

No one else lived on this level of the rapidly deteriorating building that was once a factory.

He still could not rationalize why he had felt the need to follow the cock sure leader of Bison home, other than to observe the chestnut haired mongrel's entertaining gait as he tried to walk ahead feigning nonchalance, despite his obvious discomfort.

Blue eyes peered into the modest and surprisingly clean little cubicle with its one source of overhead light. The firmly muscled nude body bent over a pink tinged bowl of water and a soiled rag being rinsed of evidence had been an even bigger surprise.

Donovan felt a stab of guilt as he saw Guy's profile grimace, entirely oblivious to being observed by the bodyguard, who had noticed the blood on his own cock as he cleaned up with his own sanitized med supplies meant for wounds and the like.

Guy has snorted and refused any assistance as he turned and holstered his own unattended partial erection; his only comment about the perks of being one of the chosen, who always like to keep their hands clean.

The bodyguard shook his head. Guy's mouth would be his undoing.

Stealthily the minder retreated to the room, the cold metal device in his pocket becoming inordinately heavy. It posed no threat to the organization and was at least two generations behind the current Midas issue.

He threw it back on the bed, along with a few chips of bearer credit before making his escape down the stairs without a word.

Katze would be looking for him by now. The Boss never slept and would have questions. Donovan had seen those cursory looks given by pale knowing eyes.

Some truth was in order, come what may on both their parts.

~~~BMR~~~

All seemed quiet as he cut the engine. No one about but the usual stragglers wending their way home after a good night of debauchery, weekly credits earned nullified by overindulgence.

Donovan was thankful for his room on the main floor of the club and its ideal position near the delivery depot. It was the weekend. He did have that in his favor and if habit proved fortuitous, the Boss would still be in bed with the blinds down going over the books and smoking like a chimney.

He checked his own com. No messages; no queries, he was in the clear. A shower, a quick debrief with his men and he would be ready for their meeting - no one truly the wiser.

The quiet hiss as the lock disengaged to his quarters was welcomed as was the familiar darkness which had a pleasing scent.

They had cleaned.

Donovan's mind wandered back to the dark little hole, Guy called his home. He sighed tiredly and removed his heavy overcoat, throwing it where he knew one of the two chairs would be as he headed to the bathroom and froze mid step.

The scent was distinctive.

A flash of light and a burning hiss caused him to turn. The flame's caramel glow silhouetted a rigid alabaster countenance before fading to nothingness, leaving in the stillness the fragrant scent of cloves.

"Good Morning, Donovan. How are Guy and your brother? I trust well?"

~~~BMR~~~

Right now his sole focus was on the peculiar music box that Katze had gone to great lengths to procure.

Raoul pointedly ignored Deek's query and dubious offer of assistance, knowing full well why the Furniture had made said – curiosity and fodder for gossip amongst his peers.

Varied tools, some still hermetically sealed, lay in neat clinical rows atop the expansive desk as though prepared for surgery, which in fact they were.

He had gotten it to work briefly the night before with marvelous results. It had taken much studious effort to decipher the antique mechanism's functions.

Full lips quirked maliciously, the red-head had been fit to be tied when its gentle trill filled the library. Score one Raoul. Oh it was petty to be sure, the thrill it gave the Elite, finally achieving a genuine rise out of the little creature.

Those intriguing eyes had become liquid flames of blinding hate. Unfortunately, the pleasure had been short lived, spoilt by the mongrel's quick rally.

Yes, Katze was an enigmatic being, unabashedly passionate and yet cold in superficial demeanor.

Such wholly inappropriate pride, intellect and near steely self-control begged to be quashed, it was almost…Elite, for want of better words. Too long in service, that was undoubtedly the reason for the self-possession in one so perfectly imperfect; fascinating.

"Upstart," Raoul murmured, adjusting his chair and set to work carefully inspecting the object for seams. He chuckled as he turned it on the desk with a finger tip, entirely mesmerized by its neat, aesthetic design. The mechanism's irritating lack of cooperativeness in revealing its soft underbelly was very familiar.

"Just like your rightful owner."

"Master Am?"

Raoul looked up suddenly remembering the Furniture's presence and noting the quickly lowered lids, veiling beady eyes that had been fixed on the Elite's face with a wealth of suspicion and unspoken censure.

"That will be all, Deek. Be so good as to close the doors on your way out."

"Yes, Master."

The response lacked a certain surety however, as the manservant continued to hover obsequiously, awaiting permission to speak.

"_**What**_ is it, Deek?"

He was long overdue for some personal time and if he chose to spend that time in dismantling this tiresome device before having it sent to the ridiculous ex-Furniture, he would do so. After all, he had returned the glove.

"I beg your indulgence if I am overstepping, Master Am, but it was my understanding that you had a previous social engagement with his Excellency at the penthouse this afternoon?"

A pale brow rose with mild annoyance. He had forgotten.

"Yes, yes…thank you, Deek. I am fully aware of my obligations."

"Very good… _Master Am_."

Raoul looked up sharply from his current task just as the doors seamlessly closed.

Two beats…exactly two beats. It seems they all did it to make some pathetic point when miffed.

Why had he never noticed before?

~~~BMR~~~

This wasn't good.

The mere fact that the boss had left him to attend to whatever with a casually request when done to join him in the usual place was foreboding. He hadn't even waited for a response to his query.

Message delivered. He knew where Donovan had been.

Donovan knew more than most just how deceptive Katze could be in more than appearance.

This impromptu meeting atop the roof of the club was designed to intimidate. More than one former ally had lost their footing in such discreet meetings.

Now as he stood behind the tall willowy figure that gave off the impression he could so easily be snapped in two by a bracing wind, stood ramrod straight, silhouetted by the slowly rising sun.

Katze was fully aware of the bodyguard's silent presence but feigned rapt attention with the glimmering horizon as the sun broke through the moisture laden clouds.

The distant beckon that was the central city of Tanagura shimmering in all its gilded, crystalline splendor; nature deifying its inglorious power. Power stolen from perceived lesser humanoid forms such as themselves.

"We've been together five years, Donovan. Six, if you count our minor skirmishes before we came to our mutually beneficial understanding."

Donovan folded his arms across his chest as Katze slowly pivoted on one heel, sun-kissed eyes mere slits as he regarded his most trusted man and inhaled the fragrant smoke.

"I would never betray you, Boss. You've kept him safe all this time without asking anything of me. Why would I risk that?"

Whisper soft, the red-head exhaled and returned his gaze to the horizon briefly with a slight incline of his head. "You tell me, Donovan."

The bodyguard whirled in the direction of the slight movement, catching the briefest of metallic glimmers atop an adjoining roof.

He had given the right answer.

"Now about the newest member of staff, do you want the pleasure of breaking him in or has Guy sapped all your energies?"

"How…"

"Discretion, Donovan. It is a requisite in this organization."

Katze flicked the butt of his cigarette at the bodyguard's feet before stepping past him, heading for the stairs.

"I think fifty credits will cover it. Don't you?"

Donovan sighed. "Yes, Boss."

"Excellent, now let's attend to the newbie, the day's not getting any younger and neither am I."

For the briefest of moments Donovan turned and regarded the adjoining rooftop where another figure stood, rifle finally at rest. That had been the metallic glimmer he had seen in his peripheral vision.

"Don't make me regret this, Donovan."

Their eyes met, gold tinged with a peculiarly threatening light.

"No Boss."

~~~BMR~~~

His mouth was dry.

"Guy! Wake up!"

The loud incessant banging on the makeshift door served only to irritate the dazed leader of Bison as Sid continued to pound, demanding entry.

"Fuck off, already! I'm tryin' to sleep, here."

Discretion had never been Guy's strong suit and the narcotizing effects of one too many stouts, purely for medicinal purposes, had not made his often times challenging thinking process all that clear.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, if you don't stop, Sid!"

"You won't believe what we found at the entrance!"

God, his head was pounding and the only way to get the little bastard to stop would be to get up and open the door.

Slowly the chestnut haired mongrel raised his head. He never slept on his stomach and now he had a crick in his neck to add to his current bodily woes. Guy winced as he sat up and got his bearings. It was better than earlier.

Fucking Donovan!

He would teach that cocky shit one of these days, but for now he would live. That's all that mattered he thought as he staggered to the door and wrenched it open determined to clock the pest.

Familiar cerulean eyes peered up at him excitedly waving a single credit disk in front of his face. "Is this legal? As near as Luke and I can figure, it is! Who'd you take down last night?!"

Slowly grey eyes looked down at the open trunk filled with food, medicine, clothing and sundry items in disarray. Clearly the crew had already been through it, almost picking it clean.

Guy's eyes narrowed as he gritted his teeth and grabbed Sid by the collar, raising him on his tip toes. Oh those eyes were beyond familiar.

"You and me have an appointment. So go downstairs and get every fuckin' thing the others took. It's all going back!"

~~~BMR~~~

His movements were graceful, Katze would give him that. At some point he had been exceedingly well trained in servicing. No question, he had been someone's prized Pet.

Soft mewling accompanied the expert lapping of Donovan's cock, just enough to heighten the sense of the forbidden while soft, full lips surrounded the bodyguard's turgid length.

A thin sheen of sweat graced Donovan's skin as he moaned his pleasure and thrust his hips forward, graceful hands smoothed over well muscled inner thighs encouraged by the stifled moans. Despite his current task, green eyes darted beyond the podium to the still, seated figure smoking quietly with a stoic, analytical expression.

He needed to impress. He needed to show his value. This was the last stop. Only death lay beyond, if he failed.

His hair and dexterous lean form was attractive.

Katze found himself mesmerized by the wealth of rich strawberry blonde tresses, its pallor and its obvious softness. He had cleaned up well. A handsome face, somewhat drawn, but that too would pass with a little care. His price would be high.

The black market dealer saw the come hither look, furtively given beneath lashes. Oh he was good. So good in fact, a quiet, consistent fire thrummed within the dealer's loins as he carefully crossed his legs to avoid detection.

Donovan groaned as wet lips suckled him and an agile tongue caressed the throbbing vein beneath the head of his cock. He closed his eyes, preferring the vision of another face with equally long tresses, richer in color, darker of visage and grey of eyes.

It was enough. Strong callused fingers stilled the moving head as he came in waves and thrust frantically into the wet, hot orifice.

Katze's eyes narrowed as he watched Donovan's trembling lips and the sharp intake of breath upon his release. No question, he was thinking of another.

Sex was never neat.

Something the ex-Furniture had learnt a long time ago in his care of Pets under his former Master's auspices.

The thick, viscous arc of cum had its place and the stage was best suited for the display, guaranteeing further patronage from those who watched with voyeuristic pleasure.

He would be popular.

The new acquisition would be performing there soon enough with others. Perhaps he would put him with the one of the two females he had in service along with another male – an exotic combination. The possibilities were endless, the combinations equally so. Sufficient masculine to be dominant, but coy enough to receive, he would prove profitable.

Kato, who had stood at the door, awaiting further instructions moved forward hurriedly as Katze beckoned with a long elegant digit.

A shared conspiratorial whisper concluded the performance as Donovan sagged and leaned back on his naked haunches, patting the head of the newly indoctrinated employee, unaware that confused grey eyes observed the finale beyond the doorway as said employee dabbed delicately at pouty reddened lips.

He had succeeded.

Death, averted for another day. He was of value.

**Author's Note**

Sorry for the delay, RL has been busy of late. It is my sincere wish that you have enjoyed.

**ElegantPaws**


	12. Chapter 11

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws **with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: **Mature – NC -17ish**

Parts:** WIP – 11 **of ?

_Reviews are fuel._

_"Extreme pleasure governs life and death."_

**Chapter 11 of ? – The Pleasure Principle **(Post OVA)

**~~~BMR~~~**

Vermillion?

Crimson?

Red just wouldn't cut it by definition.

He had yet to find the descriptive hue that would best define the singularity of its beauty. A splendor made more so by the austere surroundings of his office. It's only companion atop the imposing desk, a keyboard of steel gray and sharp, cold lines in keeping with the general decor.

So that had been the morning gift, instead of food. Katze's gaze softened markedly taking in the slender, elegant neck of its stem as it bowed under the weight of the soft and plentiful petals.

Kato really had far too much time on his hands, Katze told himself, while the pad of a single digit tentatively caressed the misted velvet of the flower's opulent display.

Beautiful.

There it was, that apologetic knock, requesting entry into the inner sanctum; permission, as always, was granted.

"Damn, this one must have cost me a small fortune, Kato. Your tastes are getting expensive in your dotage." Katze murmured.

Momentary distraction put aside Katze began tapping the keyboard and a blue-gray plume of light quietly forming an oblong holographic screen. Numbers began scrolling rapidly above the keypad with each sharp tap of long elegant fingers on steel gray keys.

"The color of passion and beauty, Master Katze, it is beyond price."

There was smugness in the retort as a fresh mug of steaming hot coffee was poured and an ashtray appeared as if by magic within easy reach along with its future occupants with an equally elegant flourish of an arthritic wrist.

Pale lips lifted in a sardonic half smile, eyes never leaving the display, but fully aware of the courtesies being bestowed.

Two couriers were late with their pricey cargo, the piece de resistance of the entire private showing tomorrow.

"The color of hate, Mister Spendthrift and everything has a price, never forget that."

"Ahhh, but never the color of indifference, Mister Katze, quality costs, you know that well enough." Kato bowed dramatically, ignoring the slight dig while awaiting further orders.

None came.

The elderly man could tell his Boss had become pre-occupied by the newest display of numbers and the cargo manifest. The dealers otherwise pale countenance had hardened amusement no longer evident in those sun-kissed eyes as they danced across the screen with growing rapidity to match his fingers.

The moment, the respite intended, had been lost.

Katze sighed. It could not be helped by the looks of things, but it would mean further explaining to his Excellency, Iason Mink this afternoon. Not something Katze was particularly looking forward to. Plasma storms or no plasma storms, Iason had been in rare form the night before and today would be no better with this piece of news.

The private auction in Sasan's underground dome could not be rescheduled; would not be rescheduled on pain of someone's death, perhaps even his.

Kato watched as long elegant fingers absently touched the scar on the rigid jaw line. He was thinking of his former Master and how to put the current circumstances to him.

All had been secured and paid for well in advance.

Exotica came at a rather high price for all concerned. The goods would be delivered at the appointed time, even if it cut into the rather generous margins already established by the black market dealer.

"What time would be convenient for Admon's private 'debrief' this evening?"

Quietly spoken with bowed head, it was Kato's usual way and a play on words. Kato was trying to distract him with the promise of something pleasurable to look forward to.

Despite himself and his current predicament, Katze looked up with knowing pale eyes to that expectant expression. A single digit instinctively reached out and caressed the exotic flower, resplendent in its vivid perfection.

Crimson perhaps, the color of blood, well some blood Katze chuckled with a rueful shake of his auburn head. Murder, or self-defense, depending on your view could be a cosmopolitan affair in Ceres and a most edifying means of understanding the infinite variety of colors that life giving fluids took. He had seen enough from an infinite variety of orifices about his feet.

Kato waited patiently, watching the shifting tide of those mesmerizing cognac eyes that held his.

These were the moments that defined their bond, well forged by subtle degree and understood intent.

"Whenever I get in, I'll need the distraction and food. Go crazy tonight."

The red-head took in the attempt at a graceful bow, slightly forestalled by what he knew was a bad back that had seen much in the way of labor and pain.

"Send them up, make sure Guy's little entourage stays put at the bar. Keep filling his gullet with stout."

Kato turned and left as he had come, the sound of the first light and the deep inhalation, marking his departure along with the pleasing scent of cloves. Whatever the issue, Mr. Katze would solve it. He always did.

Pale eyes watched meditatively the curved back of his servant before eventually falling on the flower once more. He had finally found an apt description of its colour.

"Ruby."

Yes, that would do, unbidden his thoughts returning to those tresses of similar color. That patrician face with inquisitive amber eyes deeply set in that handsome head. Something he would look into, when time permitted.

Raoul had his secrets too.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Guy still saw red.

He could not define why the open display of nothing more than instinct had roiled his gut, but it did.

That fucker had near torn him in two in this game of dominance and who had it.

Guy shivered as he gazed back into expectant, tense blue eyes that peered at him from across the bar room floor.

Bastard.

Why had something so unimportant affected him to this extent?

Anger was the answer.

Not the memory of Donovan's hot, moist breath against the skin of his neck, punctuating each punishing stroke of powerfully thrusting hips or the searing heat of his thick cock unrelenting in its claim while their bodies merged in pain - his pain and Donovan's pleasure.

No anger was preferable.

Not the burgeoning need fuelled by their primordial friction culminating in guard's guttural cries as he held him close and shuddered through his release, deep within his body, as if he had the right.

Pain. Blood. Lust.

He would hold with the pain, the blood and the sweat, never the inkling of lust. Not the pleasure he felt within his loins as the heavy body lay atop his, nor the uncontrolled spasms that seized the guard in the aftermath of their unhallowed, unwanted union.

Guy hated the intimacy of that tentative lick to his earlobe and the muffled oath of spent gratification whispered in his ear, the invasiveness of the callused palm that grasped his cock in query while the thick girth softened within, slick with his blood, detritus and cum.

No, it was preferable to focus on anger.

The anger and hate he felt on seeing Donovan atop the dais as if in meditation with tight shut eyes.

That look, entirely lost, grunting his pleasure while dispassionately petting the luxuriant head of that little shit, who kept moaned enticingly, gorging, welcoming the slick viscous offering from that twitching length that pulsed between his lips.

Guy's fists clenched. He needed to hit something, preferably someone. That little shit would do.

Where was the little shit, anyway? He'd plug his mouth good and proper with his fist, if given the slightest opportunity. Anyway, he didn't need teeth for the job he was best suited for. They just got in the way. He would be doing his future clientele a favor by knocking them out.

"So you just going to stand there and gape. Wasn't it enough?" a thick hand waved in the direction of the chest by the door, pointedly ignoring the frightened figure that stood with it.

Guy had noticed the stolid shift in expression as Donovan's gaze pointedly ignored Sid. He was right. Never, ever look at the mark. Sid was toast when they got out of here.

Donovan has crossed the room and was looking down at him with a worried expression. Bison's leader felt the tentative grasp of his elbow and finally registered the words spoken gruffly.

"Guy? Let's go. Come on, the Boss is waiting."

The chestnut-haired mongrel saw red as he looked up into cold cerulean eyes and began to flail.

If he could just land a punch, maybe that would feel better. He was just too close, too close for comfort; the heat of his skin, the smell of that sickly scent that shit wore, mingled with sweat and the faint musky odor of sex.

Tainted.

"Don't touch me. You stink of him!"

Oh yes, but he did see red and those eyes, those damn familiar blue eyes as they lowered and the grip loosened. Guy knew his words had struck home. Was it shame he saw? No, not shame, acceptance shone in those chagrined eyes that instantly grew cold and hard like marbles with feigned indifference.

"Don't start!"

Guy smiled, continuing to strike while the proverbial iron was red hot.

"Keep your shit! I, we don't need or want it! Save it for the little cock-sucker when you fuck him raw."

Guy's handsome features twisted maniacally as he chuckled and scanned the empty room for a potential audience other than Sid.

He knew the monitors were on, everyone would hear his words and more importantly understand his meaning. Donovan had made a fatal mistake with him by turning his back and walking away. He wasn't near done, ramming his little point home.

"That is if he even notices your log rammed up his ass by the end of the night. He'll be nice and loose by then, I bet. You'll be right at home in his stinking mouth and cum crusted hole, all nicely primed."

Donovan stilled, one large hand pressed against the smooth glass door.

"I'm warning you, Guy, stop it."

The sudden rigid set of the guard's broad back before slowly turning to face Guy with a murderous expression as he made short work of the distance between them.

"No lube necessary, Donny Boy. You can bury that monster in someone's sloppy seconds, maybe even thirds."

"Guy!"

Bison's leader continued, sure of his victory, however small. We'd see whose was bigger. Donovan was embarrassed, if the redness of his neck was anything to go by and the pulsing vein in his forehead.

"I'll bet he squeals in delight at the sight of big red and bends over all obedient like and takes one for the team. He might even enjoy it! I didn't."

Struck by the viciousness of the mongrel's words, Donovan did in kind without thinking.

Guy crumpled from the decisive blow to his jaw, his ears ringing as deafening, palpable silence filled the room and he lost consciousness.

"I told you to stop. Why can't you ever stop…"

The guard flexed his fist before turning and walked away with measured steps, only stopping to give a perfunctory nod to a very frightened Sid, whose large cerulean eyes lowered.

"When he can stand, send him upstairs."

Sid nodded quickly and bent over the prone figure in confusion with those self same blue eyes, mirror images to that of Katze's bodyguard.

**~~~BMR~~~**

So that was what happened last night.

An auburn brow raised a fraction of an inch. Soft well formed lips pursed in thoughtful surprise.

Katze turned from the monitor and retrieved the languishing smoke from the ashtray.

His surmise had only been logical conjecture based on circumstances, nothing more. Donovan's reactions had confirmed it. What he had not counted on was Guy's vehemence. It was almost personal.

Donovan had fucked Guy, definitely non-con by the sound of things.

Katze returned his cool, speculative gaze to a monitor and watched the lumbering progress of his Number One up the stairs to his office.

Donovan's usually quick, powerful gait was atypically plodding, and that weathered handsome face spoke volumes. He was confused and something indefinable.

"It's me, Boss."

Katze paused before releasing the pressurized lock, a new thought occurring. Guy's reactions were all wrong, frighteningly similar to the maddening possessiveness that had seized him all those years ago with Riki.

This was not good. Just one day of peace. That's all he was asking for.

"Come."

**~~~BMR~~~**

Narrowed crimson eyes with a feline aspect blinked indifferently at its reflection in the bathroom mirror, only passively aware of the fussy old man adjusting the temperature of the bath water behind him.

Anger, or was it fear, he felt, rising from below? No, they would call it hate for want of better words. In truth it was sadness.

Admon gave the little portly being another cursory glance beneath the shroud of his silken, strawberry-blonde mane that hid his well sculpted, intelligent gaze from casual observation.

Loss, whatever they perceived it to be, often supplanted the instinct to survive - entirely illogical creatures for the most part. No wonder Jupiter had seen fit to create their betters in the form of the Elite.

"Admon?"

Then again, there were those few amongst these mongrel hordes, such as the one with the scar but otherwise flawless face. His manner was reminiscent of the Master, though frail of body by comparison. His eyes were intriguing. There was depth there, something worth exploring while he waited for the Master's return, if he returned.

"Admon, your bath is ready. You will be dining with Mr. Katze tonight. I trust you will do your best to please?"

The innocuous statement was met with shrinking obeisance, and a demure attractive smile. He could see his response had pleased Kato, whose weary little eyes still searched his, now that they were uncovered.

Another hurdle met and leapt, despite his obvious lineage. Something else worthy of thought, he mused while disrobing and slowly sinking into the tub with unwanted assistance.

Apparently the black market dealer had a passing knowledge of his kind and had accepted him without fear, but with definite favor. There would be no reason to hide his true being from him cosmetically.

He had felt that speculative gaze upon him while performing the rudimentary task of oral coitus on the well hung male, who had his own pre-occupations with that vicious, unbalanced mongrel below. If the wretched creature only knew, but that was neither here nor there at the moment, he had to prepare for his greatest performance.

Those rich golden eyes held sparks of lust along with curiosity and conflict with said.

Empathic abilities were not required to recognize that this one liked control and lots of it. Most males did by predisposition and physiological design. Sex for the humanoid male being was solely a game of thrust and parry for the most part. Only the skilled took it beyond that and grasped the sensual possibilities.

Admon smiled secretively, suspecting Katze would prove the exception to the rule. Control did take so many forms, even in seeming supplication, something he felt his new Master knew well.

He could work with that. Giving pleasure was his primary function after all and in this instance, it was his wish to do so.

Yes, this Katze was so much like the Master, right down to those golden, inquisitive intelligent eyes.

He would have to be careful, but the evening held promise nonetheless.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Where Donovan chose to sheathed his cock really wasn't his business unless doing so put the organization at risk.

Wandering dicks not withstanding, he had to impress upon this otherwise loyal and often times taciturn male that emotional entanglements were to be avoided, particularly with the psychotically inclined.

Sex was currency; a form of relaxation nothing more, he told himself shunning the memory of satin soft tresses the color of spun gold, flawless alabaster skin dewed with sweat. The thought of soft insistent lips and an impertinent tongue that bore traces of that heavenly confection was in no way appropriate right now.

Chocolate, that is what it was called. Perhaps Kato's contacts could find some for tonight's dessert.

Katze re-crossed his legs…carefully. No good, he needed to focus.

The dealer pursed his lips and pointed to the florescent screen of maps and with stylus outlining exactly where the valuable shipment would be stored in the underground dome. It would be well away from prying eyes.

Donovan nodded his agreement but still regarded him quizzically. The Boss' body language spoke of physical tension and what was with that quiet groan?

"Eight, fully loaded. Six hours on, six off round the clock."

Katze inclined his head and regarded Donovan, still somewhat concerned. Not so much with the logistics of safeguarding the exotic Pet in question, more so with the tired expression in those usually forthright eyes that skittered across his face briefly with an unspoken question.

"What was that about? Downstairs I mean."

He had to get Donovan back on track and away from Guy. The man was like an open flame that consumed and destroyed everything in his fiery wake.

"I've got it under control, Boss."

"I see no evidence of that. Don't need him going off half-cocked, no pun intended and turning this encounter of yours into a fucking drama, Donovan."

For the first time that day a genuine smile crossed the rugged face of his Number One, who blushed beneath his tan.

"I know. I'm sorry. Won't happen again."

Though unconvinced, Katze chose not to press. There were details still to be shored up for the cargo in question - business first; personal bullshit, later.

It was a mantra he knew he would do well to remember himself.

"We'll need a specialized med tech there on standby. This one's a freak."

Katze snickered and tapped the keyboard. The screen vanished.

"It's a Chimera."

"No offense Boss, it's a fuckin' freak of nature. The usual crew won't be able to handle shit, if something goes wrong and we'll be left holding the…well, holding whatever it is."

Katze stifled a grimace. Donovan was right. They could not approach the usual Med Techs who worked for the black market.

This auction didn't even exist.

Its guest list was secret, wealthy beyond avarice, perverse in equal measure and politically savvy. One false move and it would be his head on the platter if caught out. Some items procured were even on planetary extinction watch.

The black market dealer's jaw clenched as he abruptly stood and made for the wet bar. He would have to go straight to the top.

Donovan quietly studied Katze's impassive expression as he stood and walked to the bar. The red-head gestured amicably at the decanter. Donovan declined the offer of a companionable drink.

Guy was still on the premises. He would need all his wits about him for the coming melee.

Katze closed his eyes and downed the amber liquid. It burnt his throat, before its radiating warmth soothed his constricted chest.

The red-head poured another and downed it in one swig.

He did not need or want another encounter with Sir Am so soon. Perhaps a word with Iason, but then that would prompt unwanted questions as to why he had not contacted Raoul directly. It was his area of expertise.

Eying the empty snifter, Katze broad shoulders slumped as he refilled it a third time and polished off its contents.

Raoul would find a way to take offense and then take it out on him.

"I'll take care of it, this afternoon."

Rich golden eyes, now hidden beneath long sooty lashes critically assessed the attentive, physically robust male perched lightly on the corner of his desk just watching him.

He had his own Guy to contend with, what gave him the right to advise anyone? Still wonders would never cease. He really could never imagine those two together.

In fact, Katze blinked rapidly and downed the amber liquid quickly in an attempt to banish the thought. He really could do with not imagining anyone with Guy in that way.

Donovan's eyes narrowed as he continued to fielding questions pertaining to other cargo expected. Since when did the Boss drink anything but coffee at this hour?

Katze had become monosyllabic, his eyes inward gazing – never a good sign.

"Boss?"

Katze shook his head and refocused his attention. Maybe that third drink had not been such a good idea. Bison's leader was several electrons shy of an atomic discharge. Riki had learnt this the hard way; but for Jupiter's supposed benevolence.

"Boss?"

Even Lambda 3000 was capable of bending when pushed by its favored son.

The Almighty God of Amoi, or Jupiter in common parlance, had given in and extended grace to its chosen's irascible, ill bred mongrel Pet.

Katze's lips quirked lazily, amused by the irony of the predicament the AI had been in at the time not to mention its most unwilling of allies, Sir Raoul Am.

To save one, it would have to save both. An atypical compromise to soothe the mania and obsessive compunction its ultimate creation felt to possess, own, perhaps even cherish, a flawed being so unlike himself.

The red-head's lips thinned.

They were all obsessive with their toys.

Blondies were unused to being challenged or denied as a rule, this Katze knew all too well from first hand experience. Verdant green eyes invaded his private musings on all things Elite. The memory of maliciously quirk lips descending on his possessively irked.

He was not a Pet. He was no one's personal plaything.

'Bastards!"

Donovan blinked, confused by the sudden outburst and the livid expression in those exotically tilted eyes that stared straight through him.

The guard's expression grew veiled in sudden understanding.

That truth was a long time coming; they neither of them had spoken of the other night, nor the car with the Syndicate crest seen leaving in the early hours.

"You're gonna contact, Sir Am, right?"

"Yep."

Katze waved dismissively at the Elite's name. "I think we're done here, unless you have any questions?"

Blue eyes fixed coolly on the impassive face across the room that dared him to challenge. It wasn't the right time to pursue this.

"Yeah, I do, but it'll keep."

Katze's eyes narrowed meaningfully.

"Leave it alone, Donovan."

As always what was not said, proved more eloquent in their dealings. He just wasn't up to this discussion right now, even if he did owe him the truth.

"Fix it. Give him his instructions for tonight. I don't care how you do it. Just fix it, Donovan or I will..._permanently_."

Donovan blanched, all color draining from his tanned face. It seems the Boss had seen the little drama after all. The real issue was how to solve it? Guy was a wild card and he didn't necessarily want him hurt.

Katze graceful turned and headed for the door then stopped abruptly, turning to pin him with an unwavering cold amber stare.

"Admon is off limits, by the way. Strictly for clients we have vetted. He is Karinese."

"I had no plans…what, he's an Empath?"

Katze nodded slowly.

"Keep that to yourself. I will conduct his final debrief tonight before he joins the stable. He could prove useful to the organization, if he survives."

Donovan blinked. This was a first. The Boss only ever watched. He never took part. What was the attraction aside from a damn good mouth?

"Oookay…I hope you don't believe all that shit you overheard?"

Katze understood the real question, but ignored it. He didn't feel like dealing with that either.

"Never mix business with pleasure, particularly with maniacs with control issues who are just as likely to kill you as fuck you with equal indifference."

"Like you, Boss?"

It was out before he could edit himself and truly it had meant to be a joke. Donovan watched as myriad emotions pass over that stoically handsome face. The guard shifted uncomfortably beneath the feral gaze knocking, over the bud vase as Katze slowly approached him on those eerily silent feet of his.

Though angered by the unexpected rejoinder pale lips lifted in a half smile that did not meet cold, amber eyes. It amused that this tall, imposing male was cringing.

"Yeah, like me, Donovan. Fix it…today."

The red-head watched abstractedly as Donovan's large paw-like hands nervously attempted to retrieve the bloom, only succeeding in severing it from its stem. A cascade of crimson petals escaped the bodyguard's fingers, fluttering to the gray carpeting like droplets of blood.

Beauty _was_ fleeting.

"All over it, Boss," Donovan hurriedly stood and sheepishly pocketed what remained of crimson petals in his embarrassment.

"Isn't that what caused the problem in the first place?"

Donovan coughed and excused himself, leaving the office with far more speed than he intended.

Katze snickered, flopped on the couch and lit another Black Nocturne. He still had an hour to kill. Maybe by then this fucking drama with Guy would be over; one less thing to worry about.

Those petals strewn about the carpet had taken on almost carnelian hue in the fading sunlight.

What to do with Admon?

That one was more than he appeared at first glance. Why had he been hiding and how had he managed to find himself in the slums? Though the clothing had been torn it had been of the very best quality and exotic in origin. Not the standard fare worn, even by the most pampered of Academy Pets kept in Apathia.

**~~~BMR~~~**

The crimson crescent beneath his right earlobe still stung. His every move would be tracked from here on in.

He was marked.

Admon of Karin was the property of the Black Market Dealer now. No chance of escape. He sighed and regarded his reflection impassively and closed his eyes, allowing the still alien feelings of curiosity to wash over him.

Katze was alone in his office. The well endowed mongrel had long left in pursuit of the erratic one. He would have to avoid him in future. No good could come of their meeting at this time.

Admon smiled knowing. His stay here would be interesting, to say the least. The one called Katze was plotting, though his mind wandered.

This mongrel favored dark autumnal colors but the frequency that most pleased him was green, deep emerald green. It clearly reminded him of someone as yet unclear. There was emotional content behind this preference that remained muddled. Some manner of deep seated conflict was there in the association.

A long held secret, even from himself, Admon mused with growing interest, returning his inner gaze to the rapidly shifting mosaic that was the mongrel's cunning and quite dangerous mind.

Katze was plotting alright, well beyond their future coital encounter. Admon smiled. He hadn't been with such a sensual being in quite a long time. The evening did hold promise.

Admon eyed the luxurious assortment of raiment set upon his bed for choosing with growing interest. The emerald green called to him and yet, something said no – too personal and likely to backfire.

For tonight, he would choose the filmy shift of crimson red that so closely matched his unmasked eyes, far preferable.

It was the color of passion. He intended to foster this, if only as a form of protection from the erratic one.

Admon smiled again, happy for a chance to please, as was his calling. Finally, another worthy of his attentions, unlike the preoccupied creature he had performed with earlier.

Too simple, too basic and entirely distracted by another; no point taking it personally that he was not the singular focus of his climax. The erratic one had no idea, but soon would.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Guy steeled himself as he heard the lock disengage. He would not make a sound. If he was going to kill him, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a whimper.

He was going out strong.

His heart thrummed in his chest with fear. This was probably it. Donovan had yet to speak to him and the gag was fucking uncomfortable in his mouth and the bindings bit into his wrists painfully.

God how he hated being pinned with nearly inhuman strength, dragged through the bar, and carried down the stairs effortlessly, in front of everyone, like some fucking piece of baggage.

No one even looked in his direction. Not even that fucker Sid.

Being tossed on the cot of the cell then left was even worse. He really had gone too far this time. No cameras were in these cells. It was usually a one way trip once you were here. No matter how you screamed the sound proofed walls would never tell.

Donovan remained silent as he re-entered the room carrying two bottles of stout. He kicked the metal door shut and slowly walked to the small table on the far side of the cell.

Guy nervously watched as the formidable man poured two long drinks and glanced over a broad shoulder at him.

"If I uncork that foul mouth of yours, will you be quiet and listen?"

Bison's leader kept his gaze level and he hoped his eyes told of his complete indifference to the inevitable outcome of the little speech.

Guy cut his eyes and instinctively curled up further into the corner of the cot, away from the light. No he would not give that bastard the satisfaction.

"Will you listen?"

Compromise was not something familiar to the chestnut haired mongrel. It was over anyway. Any minute now the burn of a dagger would end it. Nice, neat and clean as it cauterized the gaping wound. No point in giving a muffled answer.

Guy stiffened as the thick set guard turned on one heel and darted towards him with frightening speed.

He closed his eyes and raised his neck expectantly. It wouldn't take long. It was just pain. If it was to be the last thing he did, he would be quiet, dignified and shit. It would finally be over.

No more hunger. No more fear. No more pain.

Warm breath brushed his cheek unexpectedly. So soft, almost a whisper in his ear, "I'm not going to kill you. Katze will, if you don't get your shit together."

Gray eyes opened and blinked in confusion as his hands were released with a muffled grunt of frustration. Blood trickled back into cold throbbing hands as he rubbed his bruised wrists, refusing to meet the gaze he knew was upon him.

"Be quiet for a change, no lip. Okay?"

A cold bottle was forced into his hand as the cot shifted under Donovan's considerable weight and the gag was removed.

A sidelong, hateful glance was the response as Guy put the bottle to his parched lips and drank. God it was good to be alive, even in this pit.

Donovan's worn handsome face eased. "I take that as a yes?"

Guy thought to respond "_Take it any fuckin' way you want…asshole_," but didn't – a first.

He was too close. Still smelt like that little cocksucker a bit and well, he had gotten a reprieve. That was worth something for however long it lasted.

"I'm sorry…I …ah…you know… hurt you and stuff. It doesn't have to be like that."

Guy blinked, thoroughly confused by the nearness and the words spoken. Words he had never heard in his twenty three years of life, much less uttered by the man about to take his life. This had to be a joke, a really sick joke.

The now empty bottle felt good in his hand as he held the neck in a weapon like fashion and slowly rose, backing away, prepared to make a final stand.

So this was the game after all. Get him all nice and cozy then pounce, he might have known.

One more for the road, it didn't really matter now. No one would hear. No one would see. No one would come. He would be left to bleed out in this cold room, in the dark until light faded. His body would be collected later and disposed of, like so much trash.

The crash of the bottle as nerveless fingers released it, brought him from his dour reverie.

"Okay, whatever…go for it," he said with a quiet air of resignation as he began unbuckling his belt and felt hard callused fingers covering his.

"Guy, what the fuck are you doing? Did you even hear what I said?"

He began to laugh, looking up into confused dark irises as the heat of that hard, familiar body pressed into his against the cold cell door.

"You really think I'm stupid, don't you? Don't try to fuck with my head. We both know I'm not leaving here. Get on with it."

The chestnut-haired mongrel thrust his hips forward provocatively intimating an interest not felt by Donovan in his form as roughened hands, quickly undid his zipper and pawed aggressively at his flaccid cock.

"What no interest? Isn't this why you brought me down here?"

He was hardening. Yeah, as he suspected, Donovan wanted to play.

Guy chuckled, "I thought as much."

Glaring back into the now hooded gaze that focused on his stout moistened lips, Guy chuckled, ignoring his own body's tell tale response to the penetrating stare. The sudden warmth he felt coursing through his own belly and that dull ache, he refused to give a name was unwelcomed.

"No one will hear, Donny Boy, or is it only good when the _fucked_ is unwilling?

Donovan's gaze remained fixed on his lips.

"Make it good, this time, this last time."

Katze tapped the cold keys beneath his fingers and closed the screen. He really didn't need anything more to confirm his suspicions, nor did he wish to engage visually in their little drama.

The outcome was clear. Guy really was retarded. At death's door the jackass was still tempting fate and refusing to take responsibility for what he felt or wanted, regardless of protestations.

He wanted Donovan.

Languidly the black market dealer, eased himself off the couch and keyed the lock on the single drawer of his desk, pocketed its cold metallic contents and sighed.

He didn't need this.

Fifteen minutes tops he figured to be fair. Donovan did have staying power, as he had observed in the past. It would be up to him to remove the irritant in this losing game of lust; a game he knew all too well.

Perhaps another drink to steady his nerves before the disagreeable task ahead; damn but he was disappointed in Donovan.

Raoul, another fly in the ointment of his life, would have to be faced soon enough, he did not have control of that outcome, but he sure as fucking hell did over this one.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Warm, soft and gentle were the lips that took his with moist exploration as strong hands stopped his wandering ones and firm hips pinned him to the cold metal of the door.

"No, Guy, just a kiss, nothing more."

A warm tongue circled his mouth with infinite care, seeking every secreted moist crevice with languid swipes, eliciting soft unexpected moans from his own throat and hungry lips explored in turn the skin of his neck while claw-like hands held his, preventing retaliatory movement.

What had become of his worn leather clasp that kept his thick, rich hair in place, he would never know, but the heat of finger tips massaging his scalp as both bodies graced the cold floor held more interest and the warmth of the hard, body atop his, took precedence over all else.

No one had ever taken the time to kiss him like this, with infinite care.

"I'm so sorry, Guy," was the softly murmured plea against his lips.

This wasn't real. Where was the pain instead of the feel of the needful body atop his signaling want far beyond his current understanding; it felt so alien as he fell deeper into this most intimate of touches.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Katze closed the port behind him, resigned to his fate. Donovan was not dispensable, Guy was.

He hadn't foreseen this. His chest constricted. First his Excellency, then Raoul Am and then, who knows, he might feel better about snuffing Guy, after tangling with Raoul. It did complicate matters considerably, but he had no choice.

Katze had spent a lifetime observing obsession in action. He knew it well. Iason Mink and the Dark Mongrel came to mind. Their initial bond was also forged by pain that eventually lead to acquiescence.

He remembered the fateful night, when resistance had truly become futile and the performance had taken a decisive turn for his then Master. It had been not enough to simply observe, to quell the desire as to be expected.

The scream of the mongrel had echoed through the penthouse as he was taken without preparation, without thought and as always the twin moons had observed, impassively that change in the dynamics of the household forever.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon kept his head bowed as he silently approached the attractive wraith like figure standing in deep contemplation. He hadn't meant to take this circuitous route back to his own salon but his feet carried him nonetheless to the destined one.

Katze's intriguing eyes refocused abruptly and landed on his naked feet with a mixture of amusement and query before slowly making their way up the diaphanous robe to his exquisite face. Admon could both see and feel he had chosen well in costume.

"Admon?"

Ruby red irises cautiously rose to meet intrigued amber. "Yes, Master Katze?"

"Aaaaaaahhm, what no slippers?"

"It is my preference, Master Katze."

"Just Katze or Boss will do in future."

"Yes, of course. Mister Kato has requested I always address you as befits your station, Mister Katze. I will do better." The dealer's aura danced with amusement and quiet pride at the mention of Kato's name, something to remember.

A wry smile crossed pale lips. Admon looked absolutely edible. A veritable feast for the eyes and he knew it, demure bullshit notwithstanding.

Katze beckoned him lazily with one finger and leaned against the wall.

Tall, gracefully sensual in his movements, he more than knew his power to attract and keep attention. Flawlessly proportioned in build with poreless, pearlescent skin that begged to be touched, and as for the hair, its glow was almost incandescent, able enhanced by his manner of dress.

Admon was good alright. Had Katze not known better, he would have sworn this one had been bred to his calling off world. That well sculpted face housed intelligent eyes that belied the feigned submissiveness. Those eyes were softly beguiling in the current low light of the hall, but if you looked steadily enough, carefully enough, their true glacial, analytical perfection shun through.

"Admon, I would appreciate if you stop trying to read me and just ask your question in future. Your life expectancy will markedly improve by doing so."

There it was again, that shift, the narrowing of those jewel toned eyes. Katze more than understood why Admon kept them averted most often, unless compelled, such as now. Those peepers were most definitely disconcerting when unmasked to those unused to their appearance.

Admon approached cautiously, filing away the response for later review as he got down on all fours at Katze's well shod feet.

"Ooooooooh but you are good. The clients will eat it up. Save it for them."

The chill Admon had previously felt in the hall had returned with a rush. Katze resented his obeisance.

"Master…I mean, Mister Katze, have I done something to displease you?"

Katze bent and shifted thick tendrils from the flawless face.

"You are very beautiful, and deadly in your deceptiveness. Use it where it is merited. Not on me. Not ever."

Admon registered the touch. No threat, just point of fact.

"I understand. It won't happen again."

Katze chuckled and took the long slim hand in his as they rose together. "Oh yes, it will. You can't help yourself. Just thought I would give you fair warning. I've worked with your kind before."

The smile, as Admon expected did not reach his new owner's eyes which remained opaque, blocking him. There in lay the threat.

Admon's skin prickled as darkness overwhelmed his sight and a searing pain hit him in the gut. Instinctively he pulled away with wide, fearful eyes. That had been entirely unexpected.

Katze blinked away the sight and leaned heavily against the wall for support as his heart raced and he too recoiled from the touch. What the hell was that? Suddenly he had been back in that darkened alcove with the portrait of the Ruby. What was more, he felt he knew him and with the association, pain.

**~~~BMR~~~**


	13. Chapter 12

**Black Moon Rising**

By: ElegantPaws with all due deference to Yoshihara Rieko

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature – NC -17ish

Parts: WIP – 12 of ?

Reviews are fuel.

_**"For A_ngua et toutes les autres."**_

Chapter 12 of ? – **Scent and Sensuality** (Post OVA)

~~~BMR~~~

How long they stood there in silence simply regarding one another with wonder, fear and a good deal of trepidation it could not be said.

Admon was the first to move, holding out his trembling hands to the Black Market dealer, willing the reticent red-head to grasp his outstretched palms.

"Please…I need…I want…just please, this once, Katze."

The request came so softly, so baleful in its pleading tone, Admon was frightened and had not even registered the inappropriate use of his owner's given name. Katze would let it go this time.

Admon was seeking something more than the tentative touch of those cool palms atop his. That beautiful face grew sad, the want retreating from his eyes as he lowered his gaze and refocused to the here and now.

No darkness this time, just warm, enticing skin beneath Katze's no longer reticent touch. Still, why and how had the Ruby's image come to mind?

"Thank you, Master Katze. I will no longer keep you."

Katze breathed out in relief. Just a fluke, he was tired. He had drunk too much on an empty stomach; just imaginings, but just in case, it was worth asking the intriguing creature.

Admon began lowering his hands, but found them caught gently, examined and then folded as if in prayer against a broad chest, sending a delicate tremor through the Karinese' extremities. Regardless of appearance, Katze's heart beat was still erratic. He too had felt the pull. He shouldn't have. He was a mongrel.

"Answer me truthfully, Admon. Is the name Raoul Am familiar to you in anyway?"

Admon looked less than relieved as his eyes cast about, searching the equally speculative gaze for that something as yet undefined within Katze's golden eyes.

He looked defeated. It was the one thing Katze could say for sure as those ruby orbs took on their usual coquettish mask of petulance, designed to distract, distance and engender lust.

"No?"

Pale lips smirked, allowing those long graceful fingers to withdraw from beneath his by degree. The red-head placed a single digit against soft, giving lips in rebuke. Like warm velvet, he mused.

"Liar."

So reminiscent of the flowers petals in their smooth, moist, full exterior, his lids remained at half mast enjoying the feel of the soft flesh beneath his finger tip. Admon's gaze remained lowered, though his hands rose once again to carefully adjust and smooth the shift of material in the soft silken shirt Katze wore, awaited the next move.

"Should I, Mister Katze?"

A stalemate but a quiet one, requiring no response other than the immediate enjoyment of touch, warmth and burgeoning interest in this game as that expert tongue darted out playfully and licked his fingertip suggestively.

Katze moaned. Why the fuck was he feeling so damn horny all of sudden?

He was good alright.

"We'll pick this up over dinner. Make sure Kato puts some champagne on ice. Tonight we both will be drinking stars and you will rethink your little deception."

"As you wish, it is my pleasure to serve you in any capacity you deem appropriate, my Master and I am not being deceitful."

Katze heard another low, needy groan, realizing too late it had been his own as a searing jolt of lust tensed already taut abdominal muscle and the softest of scents wafted to his nostrils.

Pheromones…Admon had control of his unlike most humanoids. The closer he got, the more dangerous the game. Katze breathed out, determined to break the spell.

"Return to your quarters. Now…please. One of us is going to regret this, I just know it."

He was good, way too good at this.

"As you wish, Master Katze, I will be awaiting your return."

It was funny but as he watched Admon walk away, with a silent dignified pace, he thought of Raoul. Crimson would never suit him in that way, nor would Admon's distinctive scent.

Katze turned and headed for the stairs and was not privy to the secretive smile that played about the flawless face of his newest acquisition. Today, Admon knew that victory could favor the supplicant in the guise of companionship.

~~~BMR~~~

They had not done this for some time, this indulgence of companionship, a rare bottle and time simply to converse of this and that, without the presence of that tiresome mongrel his leader held dear.

"Crisp."

Iason's nosed the wine meditatively, then sipped with satisfaction.

"Perfect in its effervescence and clarity, a good year. Well chosen, Raoul."

"I concur, Iason, entirely pleasing to the palette and sufficiently dry," Raoul joined him in a companionable sip, basking in the sharp bite of the pale, gold liquid, "Like drinking stars I believe is the correct adage."

Ice blue eyes flashed, ever so briefly in the pale patrician face of his leader. "No Raoul, I say what I mean, always or hadn't you noticed?"

Verdant green lowered to the rim of the flute, giving the conversation pause.

This aspect of Iason's nature had always been troublesome at best, particularly after a meeting of minds with Jupiter.

Jumpy would not be the right word. Not even defensive per say. Just an overwhelming tendency to retaliate for imagined slights. Raoul allowing the bubbly liquid to rest on his lower gum, tasting it with the tip of his tongue before allowing it to wend its pleasing way down his throat.

"I was merely referencing the historical journals of ancient Benedictine who gifted us with this rare delight, Dom Perignon.

Iason's soft silky response carried a warning tone. "I stand corrected, dear friend."

"Very little has changed in the chemical formulation or process for that matter."

"Though I loathe to admit it, my knowledge of champagne's key properties is superficial at best. Do elucidate, Raoul."

The smile that touched Iason's mobile mouth chilled his most trusted brethren through. Those ice-blue eyes did not share the same sentiment of tone, regardless of the attempt at levity in his rich speaking voice that echoed in the cavernous, well appointed living space.

His head still ached. Jupiter had been rather thorough this time and somewhat invasive in the depth of its probe. It was rare for the Sentient One to be so demanding of its first born, but equally rare had been the diffidence shown by the favored child when probed on the Dark Mongrel.

Perceptive green eyes observed beneath a wayward, rich golden tendril the subtle shift of muscle beneath porcelain skin and the rigid set of Iason's lower jaw. He was in pain.

"But of course, with pleasure."

Raoul bowed decorously, taking in the stiff necked stance of his friend's posture while seated and the tightly coiled movement of shoulder muscles beneath his sash-coat. Discipline and decorum dictated he hold his tongue.

"The wine's history is quite intriguing actually. Amazing what the occasional fortunate accident can produce."

Iason was trying to be sociable, despite obvious physical discomfort.

"How so?"

It had not been lost on his second in command that the lights had been dimmed by the Furniture and the blinds that led to the balcony had been partially drawn. Iason was undoubtedly having one of his post-communion migraines. More than likely why Riki had made such a quick exit upon his arrival. Not that he minded of course. Regardless of Iason's view, the dark one always set his teeth on edge.

"Apparently, the wines bottled in the Fall in the Champagne district of France had the distressing habit of popping the antiquated cotton wadding that served as corks come the season of Spring. The only solution the monk found was to order thicker corks, which in turn broke the bottles."

Iason bowed, feigning interest as he raised an elegantly gloved hand and sipped the much discussed libation as his Furniture hovered prepared to refill both flutes.

"Go on," the Syndicate leader said in a deep amenable tone as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Raoul's own narrowed. He accepted a top up and regarded the rigid countenance before him. He knew he was being humored but there would be time enough to address this after the Furniture retreated into shadow.

"Well, eventually stronger bottles were ordered and they held. It is in the second fermentation that yeast and sugar are added. The bubbles are a natural byproduct of the conversion of sugar into alcohol."

Raoul had grown tired of this little dissertation, meant for exactly whom? "Iason, excuse the impertinence of the question but are you well?"

"Moderate discomfort, it will pass."

"Perhaps a brief rest would not go amiss. I can have something prepared to alleviate the symptoms if you wish?"

Glacial blue eyes opened and studied Raoul's features. "Perhaps after my meeting with Katze, he should be here shortly. The auction is tomorrow and we have a few details still yet to discuss."

Raoul blinked, despite his best efforts as those calculating, pools of pale blue light sparkled with something akin to an agenda of their own.

"You will stay of course? I can't imagine you have anything particularly pressing to attend to at the moment and your expertise is always welcomed."

An icy shiver travelled the length of Raoul's spine. "Of course, Iason, as you wish."

Soft as smoke was the request from lips quirking in a half smile that never quite met steely blue eyes. Iason's gaze continued to appraise as the delicate flute was lifted in summons.

"Excellent… another while we wait?"

This had been the purpose of the meeting - Katze.

Raoul adjusted his cuffs distractedly, under the watchful, narrowed gaze of his leader.

~~~BMR~~~

Katze watched as the clouds passed silently overhead weaving a tapestry of rich hues, its gilded threads the light of the setting sun. Gold, amber, warm rich orange burned a path across the sky, fading into deeper almost imperceptible flows of colour beneath the veil of pale clouds.

It really never failed to amaze the Black Market dealer, but clouds were essential for a beautiful sunset. The movement, the depth the delicacy of color could not be appreciated without clouds. Just as in life. He shook his head. Now just to find that beauty, however fleeting in this cloudy day once he had completed his task – Admon would do for now. He quickly quashed the errant thought of Raoul, his lips, his scent, his body. He would not allow that again.

The sound of boots, the lazy gait on the roof's faux gravel surface, could be none other.

Katze sighed as he walked to the edge and looked over for confirmation, ignoring the approaching laconic footfalls. Yep, there it was. The fucking hover bike parked in front of his own vehicle.

No one else had the balls, or the security retinue that comprised three heavily armed vehicles, that just happened to be in the vicinity, blocking the exit to the club's alley way.

"Why are you here?"

"Nice to see you too, Katze. Shouldn't you be making your way to the penthouse?"

Katze turned and faced the dark leather clad male with the inquisitive expression. "He's here, shit for brains. I told you to let me know when you feel like taking one of your fly by's. What the fuck is wrong with you, Riki?"

Riki yawned and stretched unselfconsciously, revealing taut smooth muscle beneath the thin black material of his shirt.

"I had to get out of there. I had nowhere else to go that those asswipes downstairs wouldn't freak out about."

"Security?"

"Yeah. I had to agree, or I'd be cut off. He's in one of his moods," the dark mongrel rolled his eyes. "You know how it is…Jupiter. He's always pissy after."

Katze sighed and handed over his smoke. "Don't wet it."

Riki snorted. "You wish," and took a long drag. He toyed briefly with licking the filter tip for good measure but chose to take another lungful instead. "What you doin' up here anyway? You always come up here when you are in deep…"

"Not now, Riki." Katze said tiredly turning away from his friend. "Take the scenic route home. Just get out of here. I have enough shit without Guy seeing you and fucking going off. He's already up to his eyeballs in psycho bullshit with Donovan, who just had to fuck him and is probably doing so now, as we speak."

The smirk on the darkly handsome well boned face fled.

"Oooooooooookay…you're not shitting me or anything, right?"

Katze's shoulders sagged. "I wish."

" Not takin' the piss or anything…those two are actually?" Riki laughed out loud causing the surprised dealer to turn just in time to witness a rather obscene gesture intimated by lean, leather clad hips.

The redhead shook his head and snickered. Riki would always be Riki.

"Yeah…my thoughts exactly," he gestured to the rapidly dwindling smoke. "Gimme that."

Riki took another drag, dark eyes growing serious as he handed the near butt to his friend. "I don't see this as all that bad, Katze."

It was rare for dealer to blanch, paling further and almost choking on smoke. Perhaps Riki hadn't heard him right. His eyes looked normal. No evidence of any narcotics. Why so flip, especially with their history?

~~~BMR~~~

Of dark and light were the intricate markings that covered the smooth expanse of a well proportioned back. The tip of Guy's tongue followed a thin rivulet of sweat that had formed in the valley that was Donovan's spine to the flame-like tongue that also licked and feasted upon the dragon's tail.

Carefully, tentatively Guy tasted and nipped the surprisingly soft skin, outlining the ink on display, while nervous fingers soothed and smoothed their way over the flat rippling muscles of a flawless abdomen to their goal.

"Soft as a baby's ass, who knew," he murmured smiling against warm, salty, kind of sexy skin and wondered, however briefly, what it would be like to give Donovan head. He held the heavy, pulsing member within his grasp possessively. That little shit had nothing on him. Donovan would cave in a lung when he was done with him.

He received for his efforts a preening flex, a soft moan of encouragement as the body beneath him quivered, glad of the contact and the friction of a well practiced palm. Guy smiled, his own breath catching with each teasing stroke. He thumbed the slick head of Donovan's cock and adjusted his weight, his own heaving chest found its way along the supple spine, eliciting another deep felt sigh. Damn but he smelt good, Guy noted, continuing to trace a path to the base of Donovan's neck.

A strong back flexed beneath him and a firm rump lifted making contact with his already swollen length. Guy stiffened, unsure of his welcome, regardless. It was only fair to warn the fucker that he would take what was on offer.

He nipped Donovan's ear hard and snickered, when the bodyguard, remaining silent but for a wince. If you waited long enough, you could always get your own back. "You don't want to encourage this, Donny Boy, you might not like it. Karma's a bitch."

Guy waited for the expected virulent response. He did expect to be on his ass and on the receiving end of punishment for his impudence, but none came, just a callused hand atop his, adjusting his rhythm, stroke for stroke. Donovan's eyes remained firmly closed against the pillow. Nothing but soft moans and feel of a killer ass undulating, mimicking, encouraging, the instinctive shift of Guy's hips.

The chestnut haired mongrel leaned to one side and peered at the weathered, handsome face in repose. His jaw was clenched in readiness.

Cold.

Guy felt suddenly inordinately cold without the callused hand atop his. He was being played. Heaving himself off the prone perfection beneath him, he snarled. Ardor was a strange thing, as was revenge when robbed of its heat and aggression.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Donovan?"

A long sigh escaped the bodyguard's chest as he slowly turned his naked form and plumped the pillows behind him, strong muscles rippling beneath smooth skin, exposing the continued warp and weft of the intricate dragon motif that coiled into the likeness of the twin moons upon his chest.

Blue as blue on blue gazed up at the naked well formed body with clear interest evident between his long smooth thighs. "You could have you know? I wouldn't have protested."

Cold shifted to heat and then back again, now lukewarm as his heart thrummed within his chest in confusion.

"And you think that makes us even?"

Donovan shrugged though his gaze remained level. "I'm tired of the fight, Guy. I don't want to fight you. Don't you get it?"

Guy reached for his jeans. He needed to get the fuck out of here and think. "Am I free to go?"

Thick fingers passed over a weary face. "Yeah, whatever, the door's not locked. Just try. Please try to not make this fuck up business. I made a mistake. Don't make it yours, 'cause Katze isn't patient."

His fingers fumbled with the shirt. Half the fucking buttons were gone and he hadn't even gotten laid, merely groped. Grey eyes passed over the body on the bed. Fuck but he still wanted to do him, despite the bullshit but he had principles. No one fucked with his brain like this…well, other than Riki back in the day.

He'd find some other way to get even with the fucker and it would hurt, really hurt.

A slow maniacal smile came to thinned lips. "Sure, whatever, Donny Boy. Maybe the little shit will take you up on your generous offer. I'll take the crap in the trunk, if it'll shut you up."

Donovan's gaze remained unwavering as he watched Guy head for the door. "Whatever, Guy."

Something made Bison's leader turn to take a final look. Damn the fucker was fine and he knew it. Way too smug. Pointedly he leered. "That looks painful. I'd take care of that if I were you."

Guy saw the smirk creeping onto those full lips and fled, slamming the metallic door.

Asshole, he thought taking the stairs two at a time heading for the bar. He'd get even with him, yet, maybe even fuck him while he was at it, but on his own terms. He was no one's pity fuck.

~~~BMR~~~

That slouch was distinctive.

Katze chuckled surprisingly amused by smoke rings growing ever distant and indistinct above the flawless dark head currently reclining on his couch. The Kid was ridiculously flexible, he envied that. Long legs were splayed, one finding purchase over the back of the couch and the other still on the rug taping a beat that could only be heard within that mercurial brain.

Katze suppressed the genuine smile that came to his lips because of this peculiar friendship. Riki's presence did bolster his mood a bit. Even if he didn't exactly buy the explanation as to why it was cool for Guy to have a new interest. The red-head wondered peripherally, if the Kid even knew why it didn't really bother him as much. The queries had grown fewer and few as to the current state of Bison, or more accurately the state of Guy's health.

"I've got thirty minutes. What has Iason done now?'

Riki raised his head. "Who said he did anything? He's having one of his _swooooons_. We agreed long ago, that a little distance helps. He's always attentive afterwards though, just like it never happened."

An auburn brow rose a fraction in disbelief. There had to be more. "Twenty-nine minutes and counting, Kid."

"See, what happened to the offer of a drink, maybe a little light entertainment, like say checking out some freak of a client gettin' drilled in a new and _specia_l way on the monitor while we do the talk thing and critique his or her performance?"

"Twenty-seven…"

Riki sat up and adjusted the leather that had crept up his thighs with a mockingly indignant glare. He butted the last of his smoke and shook his head in feigned despair.

"You know what your problem is, don't you Katze?"

Katze threw the near empty pack across the desk. "No, but I am sure you're gonna tell me…Twenty-six, Riki.."

"You need to get laid."

Katze blinked, finding no humor in the jab as he abruptly rose and reached for his coat already slung across the desk.

"Time's up. Are you coming?" and pocketed the disked report due, before heading for the door.

The swiftness of movement as Riki leapt over the couch and the hand that gripped his bicep and swung him around, made clear why Riki had been and still, in spirit, remained Bison's official leader.

"Katze? I was joking, okay…relax. Fuck, what's wrong with you?"

The hold brooked no argument, rather like a certain Elite, much despised by both but for entirely different reasons.

"Talk to me."

Katze glared at the hand and it was removed. "As a point of interest, been there, done that, Wiseass and am none the worse for wear."

Riki grinned from ear to ear and gave the Black Market dealer's back a resounding thump while waggling dark brows.

"Yeah baby! Soooooooo…did you like it? Who with? Do I know him? Is he hot?"

It was a long and level look Katze gave to his former Master's only known vice.

Riki's bright lewd smile slowly faded with Katze's furtive nod and the guilt he saw in those golden eyes.

"Oh fuck no…no….no…Oh God no, not him! He's been sniffing around you forever! So that's why… Don't think Iason hasn't noticed."

The red-head's heart plummeted in fear. "That's why, what?"

Now the shoe was very much on the other foot, as Riki's dark eyes closed. "Raoul's at the penthouse, right now. What the fuck have you done, man?"

Katze quailed. No, the day could not be any worse, those clouds again, no beauty in sight - retribution more like. Not even the fading scent of Admon upon his hands offered respite, when the last being he ever wanted to see on this day was in the offing.

~~~BMR~~~

No one knew the restive qualities of grooming one's hair to a glistening sheen, as the brush, a tool, rhythmically stroked peace into a being's soul.

His Master had appreciated this simple task that had sensual qualities all its own. It was part and parcel of their nightly ritual, their secret and their unspoken form of communication. It had taken a year to bed his Master with mixed results. In the end he wasn't wanted, another was. He stood in lieu, but this was acceptable. He benefitted with safety, sanctuary and a purpose beyond the usual Pets of his Master's station, who had only the choice of performance.

He was loathed by them in secret. Impotent loathing was perhaps far more challenging to a soul bred to conquer. It took myriad forms, the chipping away of the trust that had formed between servant and master and eventually they did succeed.

Admon would not allow this again. His call this time was not optimal. There was just so much a mongrel could do for him, but he would succeed and he would find it and his Master again. A first inkling, but why with Katze, a genuine mongrel, at least in appearance, but not in conduct, nothing more than a Furniture, well a former one anyway.

It should not have happened. This link, this tether that had only been with his Master, the one gift he had left him. Well, at least he had a name now, however, Sir Raoul Am, Chief Medical Officer. Green…he was the green. He was the source of confusion, possible weakness sensed within Katze. He was fear, but mostly he was lust, requited and yet not.

Ruby eyes peered at the finished product in the mirror and found no fault. He had an hour, perhaps two now that he was suitable. A touch more of scent would be the only requirement. Katze was very receptive to fragrance.

Those hours would be spent fruitfully in recall, beyond the reach of the other voices within the salons and the feast of hormonal discharges that were heightened with the coming of night as the other denizens prepared for their duties with the helps of narcotics to liven their moods.

He had need of none such. His task would be pleasurable, but first he needed to observe the new entity, brash, vibrant but deceptively wise. The aura was atypically bright, resilient, full of life, young, definitely and cunning, oh so cunning. It was with his new Master and somehow related to the Erratic One, who sat nursing stout in the bar.

Admon smiled, enjoying the feel of the carpeting beneath his feet as he headed for the port that led to the main hall. He wasn't strictly disobeying, his Master, Kato had to be apprised of the preferred libations for the evening meal and if he happened to run into the Master and the owner of that bright, scintillating aura, so be it.

~~~BMR~~~

Katze glared. "You want him to kill me, is that it?"

Not in the least mollified by Riki's assurance that he would follow him home. He just wanted to 'hang' for a bit, maybe catch some grub, and check out the new items on display. Bullshit of course. He wanted to encounter Guy and test the waters.

"Not leaving,." Riki responded casually around a yawn, a stretch and the unselfconscious adjustment of a too tight inseam that only served to enhance his package.

Katze's already hair trigger nerves were not soothed by his petulance. His own mind imagining the inevitable consequences the meeting might entail.

"Fuck, these are tight, Iason's such a perv. Just don't tell him, already. You worry too much, Red."

"Idiot! Don't you think he already knows, exactly where you are? Those 'Asswipes' also work for me on occasion and you bet your tight, soon to be punished ass, he is counting off the minutes and expects you to return _with_ me. I don't need this fucking agro today," the dealer hissed, turning on his heels and headed for the stairs, hoping against hope the diffident brat would follow, once he made sure the coast was clear.

Entirely unperturbed by the display of fury - Katze was at heart a nervous Nelly, Riki craned his long elegant neck, taking full inventory, or at least what he could see, of his rear in the hall's mirrored surface with a frown. "Am I walking funny again? Tell the truth."

With an exasperated sigh, Katze grimaced, amber eyes scanning the floor below. "No! Okay no! God, Kid, I don't have time for this, shit. Let's go. I don't know where the fuck he is, but we can leave now."

Riki huffed and eased long tanned fingers down the seam once more. "Like you give a shit. Like to see how you'd walk if you had a fuckin' seam ridin' your crack raw."

The red-head waved a long elegant hand impatiently, "TMI, Riki. You should be use to that by now. Get over here!"

Katze was definitely no fun."Fuuuuuuunny. Whatever, I told you…I'm…"

A deep long suffering sigh escaped full lips, just as a fluid, silken shadow caught the dark mongrel's peripheral vision. "_**Oooooooooooh**_…_**heeeeeelloooooooo.**_ Mmmmmmmm, now that's more like it. Come here gorgeous. Don't be shy."

Katze turned abruptly and followed the playful yet shark-like, gleam in Riki's eyes as they devoured Admon. The red-head sighed, taking in the suitably demure gait, so well practiced.

"Lets go, Kiddo. Leave him alone."

Riki waved dismissively at his friend and approached the exquisitely attired creature. He was almost a head taller, but somehow managed to appear small and fragile beneath the mongrel's curious gaze; definitely a player who knew his craft. Ain't nothin' screamed ex-Pet about his demeanor – very tasty.

"My, My... and you are?"

"My name is Admon, Admon of Karin, Sir."

Bison's former leader nodded his approval at Katze. "I see you're classin' up the joint with this one."

Admon's eyes remained lowered beneath thick lashes as Riki walked slowly around him. His Master was not pleased by the open display of curiosity on his friend's part. Admon preened within. This new emotion he sensed from his Master boded well. For want of better words; human emotions being sometimes confusing, Katze was feeling proprietary. He would up the ante, test his theory.

"How may I be of service, Sir?"

An impish grin played about full lips, recognizing the thinly veiled come on for what it was. "Well for starters..." Riki eyed the flawless creature in the floor length robe with pursed lips. Katze would be pissed if he touched, but he really liked the robe, Iason would look better in it though.

Katze pinched the bridge of his nose. "RIKI! I'm warning you."

Seriously, Raoul might have had a point. The resurrection of the Dark Mongrel was nothing but trouble in a perfectly lethal package. Everything was a game to the Kid. He never knew when to quit. That same devil may care attitude had once cost him his life.

"Does my ass look alright in these, Admon?"

**~~~BMR~~~**

The silence was palpable within the vehicle, so much so, that Admon felt entirely out of place at the beginning of the journey. He had been ushered into the car unceremoniously and literally plopped across from the Black Market dealer, who proceeded to ignore him for the better part of their voyage. Katze had gone through half a pack by now as he tapped the mobile and signed with his stylus various documentation of clear import.

The Graces had been kind in his Master's chosen vice, leaving only the vague scent of cloves upon his raiment – not displeasing to the senses. In fact, rather enticing when mingled with his chemistry of clean skin and that distinctive unguent favored.

"Amber Lust."

Katze blinked in the darkened rear of the vehicle, slowly focusing on that exquisite countenance across from him. Admon glanced shyly in his direction, awaiting permission to speak further.

"Pardon?"

A wave of strawberry blonde hair shielded those expressive ruby eyes. Admon leaned in, cocking his head to one side and sniffed delicately at the perplexed male, whose mind had been elsewhere. "You're choice of scent. It is Amber Lust."

The red-head eased back instinctively into the plush leather seating. Too close. What the fuck had possessed him to bring the damn creature along anyway? It wasn't as if Riki was actually interested? The kid had it hard for Iason, in more ways than one, regardless of protestations to the contrary. He had come crawling back when it counted.

"Yeah, what of it?" Why was his voice so defensive? Why did he suddenly know bringing Admon was a huge mistake and still he brought him?

His agile, logical mind knew better though. He had caught Admon in a lie earlier. That shared vision, the pain, the Ruby's portrait secreted in that alcove where no one would see. Oh Admon had lied alright, it was just to ascertain why. Katze knew there had to be a connection to Raoul Am, and if, just if, it gave the Black Market dealer an edge, the risk would be worth it.

That shy smile again on soft pouty lips. "It is pleasing to my senses, my Master."

Katze eyes narrowed as the familiar sight of Eos Tower, hoved into view, before a respectful tap on the partition announced their arrival. "We're here, Mister Katze."

Admon gracefully adjusted himself, folding silk across his arm, preparing himself. Speculative amber watched the elegance of movement with a secretive smile as the door was opened and he exited first. Without thought, he beckoned the Karinese, extending his own hand, taking Admon's in a steely grip.

"Be silent. Observe. Do not embarrass me."

Admon inclined his head, acknowledging the command but not relinquishing the pro-offered hand as they walked silently into the cavernous outer complex.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Kato beamed at his handiwork, well pleased as he stroked the crease out of the silken sheets. Now they rested like a still lake atop the bed. Fresh pillows and the 'necessaries' set aside for Mr. Katze's convenience.

All that was left to attend was the meal, which, as always he would see to personally with the added benefit of his own late night feast in his quiet, neat little room all his own.

Life was good.

Co-ordination was everything, right down to the lighting, he mused with a critical artistic eye. Lightly he passed his hand across the control, adjusting, adjusting until the sheets took on a rich, warm hue, the warmest of crimson that suitably matched Admon's attire and what was left of those petals, now strewn across the bedding; simply perfect.

Not a virulent red but very much like that flower, like Admon. No co-incidence, that Admon. Such a rare variety of peony was the Admon, his little joke. He wondered vaguely, if his Boss knew the significance in the choice of flower that day.

Kato chuckled, imagining the expression in those beautiful cognac eyes upon discovery of his clever little secret. Time enough for the Master to tweak to the supposed co-incidence when he found out. It was rare to get one over on Mr. Katze.

The bent little man continued to smile, his mind happily filled with purpose as he opened the back balcony doors and looked up at the newly rising stars above.

"You shall drink stars tonight, Mister Katze," he murmured as if in prayer. Kato's eyes briefly looking down open the dark movement of the furtive throng who had begun their revelry. There but for grace, he thought, as his eyes sought and found an elderly being who stumbled their way into the adjoining building.

He sighed.

Another night would begin soon. He too was safe, if for only this night.

**~~~BMR~~~**

He did not need his empathic abilities to feel the evident and all encompassing derision as they walked through the busy atrium toward the bank of elevators. They had been a source of prurient observation, whispers and not so veiled titters.

Admon observed the thin film of sweat atop Katze's upper lip. Worry coiled off Katze in ever expanding eddies not readily apparent in his impassive expression. He was worried about his presence, or more accurately, how to explain it without engendering the ire of the confused, diffident one.

Silently, security protocols were observed. The laser scanned Katze's iris allowing them entre to the single lift authorized to take them to the penthouse.

He had to calm him. It was his duty. Admon relinquished the hand guiding him and turned to face his Master while they rapidly ascended.

With a flourish of sleeve, Admon dabbed delicately at the errant moisture with a length of cloth secreted within the voluminous fold at his wrist.

Dark pupils in honey irises held Admon's gaze with momentary suspicion. before the vaguest suggestion of a smile quirking well formed lips in unspoken gratitude.

"Just follow my lead, okay?"

Admon bowed, adjusted his sleeves and elegantly folding long arms within, assuming a deferential distance within the confines of the elevator. Trust he knew required time. It was the smallest of demonstrations that best served to engendered cordiality, union in those circumspect of nature.

The doors opened upon the quiet pale gray hallway.

Admon's toes curled in pleasure at the feel of the thick plush carpeting beneath his feet.

He felt observed. In fact, the entire exchange had been, unbeknownst to Katze of Ceres. Sometimes declarations of war were best when subtle, making an unwitting opponent green with envy.

**~~~BMR~~~**

**Author's Note**

_As always thank you so much for taking the time to read. Sincerely hope you enjoyed...intrigues ahead *wink*_

**EP**


	14. Chapter 13

**Black Moon Rising**

By: ElegantPaws with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature – Adult Content

Parts: **WIP** – **13** of ?

Reviews are fuel.

"_For Avernion…Just Because_."

Chapter 13 of ? – **Secrets** (Post OVA)

**~~~BMR~~~**

It was not Cal, the Furniture, that opened the door but Iason Mink himself.

Katze met the Syndicate leader's cool regard with a decorous nod. Those glacial pools betrayed nothing of Iason's keen interest in the guest standing silently behind the Black Market dealer with a suitably demure countenance.

With a slight inclination of a pale silken head, Iason gracefully stepped aside allowing them both entry into the penthouse's darkened social space.

"Come through."

The redhead noted the sudden pinch expression that marred otherwise flawless patrician features when Iason gave a fleeting glance to the outer hall. Katze knew he would have to answer for the Kid's whereabouts; another shit-storm, this one not of his own making.

Katze answered the unspoken. "He's on his way, Iason."

"Yes…no doubt."

The dealer smoothly turning on his heels shucked his coat and handing it to Cal with a secretive wink before returning his gaze to Iason. Ice blue eyes were drinking in the Karinese with open curiosity.

Katze watched in fascination the meticulously slow, questioning appraisal that paused before smoothly glided to Katze with an expectant air.

"This is Admon of Karin, the newest acquisition to the stable. Time did not permit me to leave him behind before attending this meeting."

Iason's continued his silent inspection of the merchandise. It was proving disconcerting.

"Are you an Empath, Admon?"

Katze held his breath, awaiting possible censure for the unexpected intrusion.

"Yes your, Excellency."

Censure did not, however, come from the quarter anticipated as the well accoutered being in question moved forward and deferentially bowed to Tanagura's leader with well practiced grace.

Swift shadowy movement drew Katze's attention from across the sitting room. The dismissive wave of a gloved wrist in Admon's general direction was all it took to recognize Raoul.

Katze paled visibly.

"Come, come, now Katze. You _could_ have left _it _in the vehicle, sparing all concerned the dramatic entrance and sycophantic preening."

Though Raoul's face remained in shadow, his meaning was clear, if not to Iason - himself.

Admon schooled his countenance, bristling within as his eyes met those of livid, questioning green and the scorn in the supercilious curve of full lips. In one fell swoop his existence as a sentient being entirely dismissed; not worthy of notice.

His challenge had been countered instinctually. Admon wondered briefly if the Elite in question realized that he had natural empathic abilities.

The Blondie was in defense mode, his body language spoke volumes.

For a creature scrupulously designed to suppress the baser emotional drives of the purely organic human animal, the Elite in question was doing a poor job of curbing his disquiet and all because of his new Master's presence; interesting.

Palpable tension filled the space between his Master and the Blondie, their respective heart rates had risen; their breathing becoming shallow, though neither spared the other the vaguest of glances.

Most curious of all to the Karinese was the contrasting chill and guarded curiosity from the observant one they called leader.

"That is neither here nor there, Raoul," Iason responded in a clipped tone, while guiding the dealer forward and indicated a seat before returning his attention to his intractable friend. "He is here now Raoul, and Cal will see to his needs while we discuss the Auction's itinerary for tomorrow."

Admon's eyes narrowed perceptibly as he watched the Blondie in question slowly approach the deep couch where Katze sat, ramrod straight with his usual impassive expression in place.

This Raoul Am had been the source of that haunted feeling in the pit of his stomach, his scent distant but familiar to his senses.

Raoul's gaze flicked across the Black Market dealer's stoically handsome face, clinically taking in the shadows beneath his pale eyes, the tension evident in those high cheekbones and the growing rigidity in his lower jaw with each step he took closer to his mark. A thin film of sweat now touched that delicately structured upper lip which trembled slightly. Katze needed a smoke. He could always tell.

The medical man smirked; pleased he could still elicit fear in the little mongrel, despite the protection of his current surroundings. Soon enough he would get him alone and exact punishment.

Fear was always preferable to respect. He could and would bide his time. Katze would answer for this new 'acquisition', one way or another.

His Master had given him but one order, to observe and so despite the obvious dislike in the venomously questioning glares being leveled at him sporadically, he did.

Wave upon waves of wholly destructive emotions mixed with suppressed carnal need, flowed over and through Admon unhindered.

Muddled frustration warred with suspicion as the Blondie glowered at him, willing his demise but not succeeding. Admon wanted to smile feeling the sudden emotional shift within the Elite as he fought valiantly to control the discharges of his instinctive, possessive will. Raoul's gaze shifted for the second time to the redheaded mongrel, assuming a quietly bland expression.

That brief glance directed at the dealer also spoke volumes. He wanted Katze.

Frustration turned to molten rage as the object of need remained seemingly indifferent to his surroundings. The sharp hurt of longing verging on despair continued to coil in slowing eddies from the Elite as he fought for control. Admon's gut churned, attempted to process the shifting tapestry of emotions within the Blondie. It was too much. There could be no outcome but violence.

He was proud of his Master though. That stolid countenance feigned indifference well, though Admon could feel the rising heat of his skin and the subtle well hidden fear. The quality of the fear however was intriguing. It had less to do with the Blondie and more to do with the dealer himself.

Admon felt a hand touch his shoulder lightly bringing up from his trance-like state. He shifted under the unwanted touch and those dark beseeching eyes looking up at him – Cal. Like all who served these exalted beings he was frightened.

Still dazed by the encounter Admon glanced at Katze who cautiously nodded his assent.

Katze's skin prickled when his eyes met the cool surmise within Iason's ice blue counterparts. He knew.

Iason had to admit, though his head ached, this was fascinating; Katze as sexual being, how curious.

Admon lowered his gaze beneath long lashes and quietly followed the Furniture from the spacious well appointed room, aware of two sets of eyes upon him; one set amused and curious, and the other, cold fury.

Katze was in trouble.

He should never have marked him with his scent. The dealer would pay for this oversight.

**~~~BMR~~~**

The bar was silent as Riki smirked counting the credits before him, sure of his victory.

Ahh just like the old days, he thought with wet, petulant lips firmly closed around the sweet morsel while his dexterous tongue worked its magic and his audience breathlessly awaited the results of the bet.

Gray eyes watched with no small amount of interest from behind. Donovan scanned their proximity with growing trepidation as he silently signaled his men to move forward in case.

The bodyguard had always liked the Kid, but this was a bit showy, even for him. Guy had not moved a muscle, but the trouble lay in his haunted gaze that held a secret want.

Riki managed a lascivious grin around the cherry's knotted stem protruding from moist lips before he ate it with relish to resounding cheers.

"It's all in the tongue, baby" he slurred, reaching for the bowl of cherry red liquid with the bobbing sweets.

A hand moved it playfully just out of reach, spilling the viscous, pink tinged liquid over long fingers that rose to paint Riki's lips, with infinite care as he spoke.

"I remember that tongue."

The mongrel licked his lips suggestively before giving his verdict. "Sweet."

Gray eyes held a predatory gleam as they watched the slow movement of Riki's soft wet tongue, liking his own index finger meaningfully, removing the remaining sticky sweetness.

Riki's obsidian gaze remained unreadable as he met Guy's appreciative stare. The dark mongrel snorted, lit another filter tip and turned away, pounding the bar top for service.

"Keep 'em coming. The night is young."

The credits were thrown back to the barkeeper. Cheers echoed throughout the main floor at the unexpected largesse displayed by the former slum dweller.

Donovan convulsively cracked his spine before approaching. He had to put an end to this, feeling an unfamiliar twinge in his gut at Guy's open display and the Dark Mongrel's indifference.

There was unspoken anger in that obsidian gaze; unfinished business.

"Okay, point made, Riki." Donovan said casually placing himself between Bison's current leader and Iason Mink's fuck toy, "Time to go, Kid."

Guy snarled as his arms were grasped from behind by strong hands and a cold pistol was leveled at his spine by security, daring him to move or speak.

Riki's dark brow rose in a quizzical arch, his extraordinarily handsome face assumed a knowing, mischievous grin while he slowly took inventory from the bodyguard's booted feet, up the well-muscled torso to the breadth of broad powerful shoulders, but no further as he butted the smoke.

"So Guy, I'm guessin' he tops?"

**~~~BMR~~~**

Cal refreshed Sirs Mink and Am's stemmed glasses, feigning indifference to the hushed rapid fire discussion shared between his Master and the ex-Furniture, Katze. Sir Am, on the other hand, appeared more interested in contemplating the delicate structure of the crystal flute he held and its contents than partaking of conversation.

The redhead's adroit suggestions being met most often with protracted silences and or a diffident nod, but only where absolutely necessary. Cal's brows furrowed. It was curious that neither regarded the other, preferring to maintain Sir Iason's narrowed, steely gaze in discourse.

Deek was right. Something was amiss with the Chief Medical Officer of Tanagura, particularly when it came to any public interaction with the Black Market dealer.

Gray brows knitted briefly as he retreated to the kitchen deep in thought, taking the impromptu guest with him. Not two nights before, Cal had it on excellent authority the mongrel had been a guest of Sir Am for several hours in his private study. He barely tolerated Deek's presence there, much less the mongrel.

Iason steepled long gloved fingers and regarded both men across from him with growing irritation at the conversational impasse.

Katze licked his lips nervously, noting the pregnant pause.

"Raoul, I would take it as a personal favor if you accompanied Katze tomorrow morning and see about the exotic offering in question."

"Donovan will greet Sir Am. We've re-organized things a bit for security reasons." The last fucking thing he needed was to be in close quarters with the son-of-a-bitch.

Iason's already growing impatience, particularly with Raoul's obvious reticence, caused the soft words directed at the dealer to emerge from taut lips with a hiss.

"Was I not clear? You, Katze, will accompany Sir Am. Not one of your lackeys."

"Of course, whatever you deem appropriate, your Excellency. I was merely thinking ahead so as not to inconvenience Sir Am."

A derisive snort echoed within the room as Raoul gracefully rose and straightened his sash coat with marked impatience. He wanted to leave. The Karinese scent still permeated the room; most displeasing in its sickly sweetness; highly repulsive to his delicately honed olfactory senses.

"Iason, if you will forgive a simple observation?"

"Go on, dear friend. I am sure your faultless surmise will be of equal interest to Katze."

Raoul shook his head slowly, unsure by his friend's tone if he should continue. "As you wish…._Iason_."

Ice blue eyes sparkled with a malicious gleam as pale lips curved into a smile. "Continue."

"This recalcitrance," Raoul paused and pursed his lips, searching for the right phrase. "No, this passive aggression you see displayed is the direct result of your indulgent handling of the mongrel."

Katze stiffened, hearing the slow intake of breath coming from Iason, who casually smoothed long gloved fingers over the sleeve of his coat.

"And one facile observation merits another, Raoul."

Katze shifted his gaze to the carpet. He knew that tone well. Raoul was about to get his perfectly delectable ass handed to him and in his presence too. Not good.

A slow diffident nod signaled the medical man's acquiesced to the strategically chosen adjective meant to upbraid.

Livid green eyes lowered accusingly toward the bowed head of the mongrel, who had developed a sudden and inexplicable fascination with the carpeting beneath expensively shod feet.

"Your meaning, Iason?"

"Perspective, Raoul, all is perspective, don't you think?"

Raoul's gaze grew cold and distant. "I still don't quite catch your meaning?"

"The illusion of choice can prove beneficial in obtaining one's ultimate ends. It is essential, in fact. One must always allow for individuality, complicity, and acceptance in setting boundaries."

"Yeeeeees, a modicum of freedom is allowable, depending on the subject. I concur, but discipline is also an essential part of training."

Iason's mouth hardened, smooth alabaster skin pulled taut over his flawless, well boned countenance, while long gloved fingers caressed the arm of his chair rhythmically in thought.

"I would hazard this passive aggression displayed has more to do with your ever present need to debase him, knowing full well he has no recourse."

Rendered mute by the well couched observation, Raoul's eyes grew large in horror.

Languidly, Iason continued with a frigid smile upon his full lips.

"I see you don't deny it?"

"Discipline, Iason. All is discipline. I do not put up with impudence."

"Allowing him no illusion of freedom to choose the path most dearly sought, by his victimizer, is a mistake, Raoul."

Katze abruptly rose, not liking the tenure of the conversation as his blood began to run cold with fear. This was too close to home. Riki's earlier flippant comment was coming home to roost.

If Iason continued this line, he would be the one to suffer. "Your Excellency, it grows late …"

"SIT!!! You are no better than he." Iason roared, kneading his temples. "The both of you are giving me a headache of epic proportions."

Raoul's stance abruptly changed from diffidence to concern as he moved forward and kneeled before the elegant seated figure in obvious pain. He would not address the comment in the presence of the mongrel. He would not deign to give the observation, merit.

"Iason, the offer still stands. I can retrieve the necessary preparations in a matter of minutes. Allow me to leave your presence momentarily?"

"I'll get it, Sir Am." Katze offered softly, finally seeing a tangible means of escape.

It was rare for anyone to see Iason like this and in truth, the redhead didn't like it. When all was said and done, Iason had allowed him some semblance of choice and freedom, however tethered, it was life.

Raoul turned narrowed eyes on the remarkably striking figure hovering over his right shoulder and was somewhat piqued by the genuine concern emanating from soft amber pools, directed at Iason.

In that moment, wholly illogical as it was it irked the Blondie that never once had Katze ever looked at him in that manner.

"Well at least some semblance of your conditioning remains intact."

Resentment, jealousy and suspicion came to the fore as the muscles of his back tensed. He wanted to strike the fragile mongrel. That foul unwelcomed scent wafted to his nostrils again the closer Katze came.

"Once a Furniture; always a Furniture," he murmured sarcastically, returning his attention to Iason's strained face.

Katze signed, turning his fatigued eyes to Raoul, uncaring of the probable outcome for speaking out of turn. "Just let me get what he needs, Sir Am and I can be out of your hair."

Raoul had noticed it before, but had assumed the fragrant eddies were due to overdone toy's unwanted presence in the penthouse; not anymore. It had been lingering on Katze, all along. He had witnessed that rather invasive touch as they left the lift. It only served to fuel his anger then.

"And back in your plaything's no doubt? Tell me Katze, have you taken to sampling the goods?"

"RAOUL!"

Both flinched at the sheer volume that brought Cal and Admon running back into the living space.

Instinct brought Admon to Katze's side, eliciting Raoul's indignation at the possessive, almost solicitous look given to the mongrel's cloaked visage.

Where moments before there had been warmth, softness, concern in those cognac depths, now only cold citrine regarded the Elite with barely suppressed rage.

Pale lips quirked with gratification; he preferred that look. He understood that look for what it was. This was in no way finished, but Iason came first. He would assert his dominance at a more appropriate time without prying eyes.

"Inform Deek you have my permission to enter my study and retrieve my medical kit."

Katze glared back into spiteful green eyes, instinctively aware something had changed in Raoul's almost rapacious cat-like appraisal that glided over the mongrel's attractive form. No fucking way. He knew that look and there was no way in hell, he told himself, though his breath caught and the faintest of tremors coursed through his own being in want.

Iason needed help and that came first; he would deal with the bullshit later; preferably with Admon.

"Where in the study, Sir Am?"

"The desk of course, right next to that bizarre little box, you so covet."

Admon flinched, gripping Katze's shoulder for support as a feeling of foreboding ricocheted through his chest as nonsensical images passed before his eyes; a helix of spectral light spiraling up; the sound of running water down a long cold hallway. A place his current Master had been and the pain.

"You okay?" Katze whispered steadying him gently with the stroke of warm fingers down his back with soothing caresses meant to reassure.

"Can we please leave?"

"Yes Katze, please do. _Its_ scent offends." Raoul snapped waspishly, as Iason abruptly rose and pointedly glared at his second in command.

"Cal, his coat," Iason interjected, "and Katze, inform Riki my generosity has limits tonight."

"I am sure he is on his way as we speak, Iason," Katze assured unconvincingly, accepting the coat.

Pale lips thinned to a harsh line of resolved, "He has been too long without the ring. This will be rectified upon his return."

The Kid had finally done it and he had no one to blame Katze thought watching as the tall imposing being abruptly turned and headed down the long corridor that lead to the Master bedroom.

"CAL!" Iason barked.

The Furniture was glad of the reprieve and hurriedly followed in the wake of his Master's bellow, leaving Katze with the unenviable task of dealing with Raoul.

Admon's opaque ruby eyes glided over the handsome Elite's strained features. Tactical retreat was the only option at the moment. "I will await your return in the foyer, Katze."

The redhead blinked. There was a message there in the use of his given name, but damned if he had time to figure it out now. What was unfortunate, however, was Admon's timing, presaged by Raoul's sharp intake of breath as he headed for the door.

Raoul chuckled softly. "_Katze_, is it? How quaint."

Recognizing the danger in the sibilance of tone and query, the dealer quietly slipped on his coat and slowly began to back towards the door, his mind rapidly gauging the remaining distance between himself and it.

"You won't make it, but you are welcome to try, Katze." was the whispered threat that now came from directly behind his ear.

He shivered as Raoul's warm breath ghosted across the nape of his neck and he found himself pinned effortlessly against the door.

"Be quick about it."

Katze blinked in confusion as he craned his neck, trying to see the shadowed expression on Raoul's face. Warm breath brushed his face as gloved hands glided possessively over his hips, wending their way suggestively to his crotch with a vicious squeeze.

He flinched in pain as Raoul ground his hips forward with a purr of delight against a tensely muscled backside.

"I trust, still mine?" Raoul whispered threateningly, his interest evident by the heat of his burgeoning erection.

Tears welled behind the mongrel's closed and furious eyes. Despite the pain inflicted, his body responded.

"Yes…"

A stinging smack to his rear ended the encounter, as Raoul lazily eased himself off Katze's plastered form with a languorous sigh. "Excellent. Be back in five minutes. You won't like it if I have to come looking for you, little mongrel."

"No, Sir Am."

**~~~BMR~~~**

It was time to return. Funny, but it didn't bother him half as much as it use to, he mused distractedly, dark eyes looking wistfully toward the crest of the hill at the shimmering towers that beckoned; his home, such as it was.

He glanced upward. No sign of the twins tonight.

The moisture laden air took on the distinctive scent of the rain to come, while dark foreboding clouds gathered, overshadowing the usually star filled sky.

Riki stretched tiredly, feeling for the last smoke bummed while Donovan waited patiently in the doorway like the towering sentinel he was, simply observing as the Mink security detail prepared to leave now that Riki sat astride his hover bike and blew unsuccessful smoke rings as if he had all the time in the world.

Iason would be pissed. What should have been an hour or two of respite, a kind of freedom from the stolid, hollow and often times, lonely, sterile existence had turned to four.

The acrid stench sure to follow rainfall, the noise, the dirt, the sound of plodding feet, laughter, drunken stupors, the visceral pleasure of a good fight, fleeting passions and pain, all confirmed you were alive, unlike the bland opulence of the penthouse; ever silent, pitiless in its regularity and perfection.

He was so fucked. Might as well enjoy the smoke before dealing; Iason's punishments had been kind of weak of late, maybe he'd luck out.

Those all too brief exchanges, no longer cruel had changed to something indefinable and Iason had grown watchful, almost reticent in his touch of late; giving and taking in equal measure.

In truth he almost preferred Iason's wrath, the forceful possessiveness to this new untenable hold the Blondie had over him. It was the silences now that hurt, alone in that gilded cage. That hollow ridge within where anger alone no longer sufficed was unbearable.

Something had changed, but fuck if he knew what.

The hum of engines brought Riki out of his reverie as he felt Donovan's approach.

"Go Riki, Guy's foaming at the mouth downstairs in the cell."

The dark mongrel shrugged gunning the powerful engine beneath him.

"And I give a fuck _beeeeeeeeeecause_?"

Donovan large hands grabbed the handles with menace and lowered his face mere inches from the smirking mongrel's.

Dark eyes became mere pinpoints of angry light.

"Donny, Donny, Donny. Never touch the ride."

"Stop comin' around. Stop rubbin' his nose in it. You made your bed. Lie in it, Kiddo."

Riki chuckled and gunned the engine once more, shifting his weight sufficiently as he back up, leaving Donovan no choice but to relinquish his grasp.

"Yeah…whatever, sweet cheeks. Tell Katze I might see him tomorrow at the auction, just depends."

Donovan's eyes glinted threateningly. Fuckin' brat thought this was a game. Such a cold little bastard; perfectly suited for Sir Shit by the looks of things.

"Depends on what?"

"Never you mind, Sexy. Go take care of _your_ rabid dog. You're welcome to him."

The first droplets of rain touched Riki's cheek as he eased into traffic, his unhappy retinue following as he weaved through traffic with an impish grin. It felt so good to be out. He felt free in the moment.

Iason would be pissed alright, he was two hours past curfew. Okay so it was gonna fuckin' hurt, but bruises always healed, he reminded himself, glad of the rain that washed away all evidence of tears.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Katze was stronger than he looked. He would give him that, however, the undue solicitousness would have to go.

All that brushing back of hair from sweaty brow was untenable to the Elite's sense of propriety. Against his better judgment and Iason's insistence he had returned with the tiresome mongrel and his new plaything.

Glaring at the inordinately attractive prone figure, Raoul huffed. "Does he have any pre-existing medical conditions, some form of communicable disease you saw fit not to mention?"

The redhead lower jaw stiffened at the clear implication of Raoul's words.

"No Sir Am, my people gave him a thorough medical."

Raoul shrugged indifferently and began pacing the small room impatiently, noting the uncharacteristically practical surroundings with suspicion. Such a decorative creature he had imagined would surround himself with all manner of petty, juvenile flotsam. Instead, it was neat, ordered and almost clinical in its perfection.

"With his line of profession, you never know what manner of sexually transmitted disease may lay dormant before rearing its ugly head. It pays to be safe in these matters."

"Do you need him undressed? I'll get Kato to assist you in your examination, Sir Am."

"Noooo, please…no. Not him."

Admon was conscious.

A perplexed golden brow showed clear affront at the pathetic whine.

"Oh dear, are we feeling modest, Admon?"

Admon released the breath he had been holding as his vision acclimatized to the familiar surroundings and he focused his attention on his Master, ignoring the jib of the vituperative Blondie, currently staring at him as though he were a nasty little insect.

Long pale fingers of their own volition brushed the Black Market dealer's scarred cheek before gently cupping the curiously beautiful face full of genuine concern.

Katze blushed self-consciously, carefully extricating himself from the gentle touch, folding Admon's beautiful hands to his chest.

"No more fainting, 'kay? It's bad for business. The clients will freak."

A slow tired smile graced Admon face as he closed his eyes once more.

Katze would later remember the gentle ephemeral smile that touched soft lips; a genuine smile, the first he had himself witnessed since Admon's capture. He would also hold in memory the equal gentility of that touch.

It was almost reverent.

No one had ever touched him that way, as if he were worth something.

Only the best clients Katze thought, absently - only the best and not those inclined to perverse cruelty, simply because they had paid well for the privilege of bedding him.

There were plenty of other uses for Admon within the organization, where his natural skills could prove beneficial. He would speak with Donovan and the crew in the morning.

"I will do my best in future. On occasion I have turns when over stimulated by hateful, destructive emotions. It is nothing more than that. My usual guard was not up." Admon glared at the towering figure standing behind his Master. "It is now. Please allow me a few minutes to equalize before attending to you."

Katze shook his head, somewhat thrown by Admon's practicality. "You get another reprieve tonight. Scared the shit out of me when I found you in the hall all dead to the world."

Raoul gritted his teeth disgusted by the intimate undercurrents displayed. It was as if he weren't even in the room the way they spoke. Why was the mongrel smoothing the covers over the whore as though he were some manner of delicate porcelain, something precious to him?

Admon raising himself slowly upon his elbows, "I do not wish this reprieve you speak of. I wish to pleasure you. That _is_ my purpose now."

Uncomfortably aware they were not alone Katze coughed, rising to his feet and adjusted the blankets around the almost prone figure with finality.

"We'll talk about that tomorrow. Kato will be in shortly. You need to eat and rest."

"So do you."

"Touché…Rest. _**That**_ is an order."

Admon nodded wearily and gracelessly flopped back onto soft, plush pillows. It seemed the Elite had lost interest in him, preferring to glean more about the 'whore' by detailed examination of the quietly modest bedroom.

Katze sighed as he turned to face the suspiciously silent Blondie and bowed before heading for the door. He hoped it would be enough.

"I am sorry we've kept you, Master Am. We thank you for your valuable time and consideration. If you will allow me to escort you downstairs, Donovan will see you back safely. Again, I apologize for wasting your time. Good night, Sir Am."

Again that rich golden brow rose in actual amazement. This sudden show of spine was unacceptable as was the finality in Katze's tone. Again the wretched little creature was taking it upon himself to be dismissive, however well disguised the attempt at chivalrous behavior.

Head held high, the Elite exited the non-descript little room without a backward glance.

This was in no way finished.

**~~~BMR~~~**

There was always something.

First Donovan bitching at the top of his lungs in the kitchen abut Riki's behavior, then the bar count was off, due to the Kid's generosity and the happy fingers of the former Barman, who now lay prone in the alley, a mere shadow of his former self.

Katze flopped in a booth, nursing his wrist. He never could throw a punch. God his wrist hurt and Kato was in a mood, all his well laid plans, gone for naught. A rueful smile did curve pale lips however. Somewhere between the upper floor and the bar, Raoul Am, the bane of his existence, had miraculously disappeared. No one could find him.

"Praises to Jupiter."

The dealer dismissed the thought as his eyes absently wandered over the two attractive males atop the dais copulating with bored expressions. He checked the chronometer over the bar. It was their second performance for the night. Katze made a mental note to switch up the partnerships before the next set.

No heat. No lust.

Analytically, citrine eyes passed over the clientele, measuring the response levels. As it was, only the truly desperate at the bar showed any interest. Not a single hand went unconsciously to a crotch. Not good for business. A third of the salons upstairs remained unoccupied. It looked to be a slower than average night.

The lighting was off too and in no way complimentary to the practiced heaving forms. A threesome for the midnight show, a female even, just for a change of pace; exotica paid dividends.

The more holes for impaling, the better it was for business; just a fact, he thought slowly rising, intentionally ignoring the twinge of pain from his rapidly swelling fingers. What the fuck had possessed him to take a swing at the jackass? That was always best left to Donovan whose shadow hoved into view.

"Want some ice for that?"

"Fuck off."

Donovan stifled a chuckle. "Just an offer, Boss. Nice shot though, almost broke his jaw."

"Almost my ass, you're enjoying this," Katze sighed, flexing his fingers with a hiss. "You're on tonight. Put a threesome up next. Use the little female. She's plenty flexible."

"Yeah, was kind of wonderin' about those two." The bodyguard snorted, folding long powerful arms across his chest. "They're kinda losin' their edge, Boss. We've all noticed."

Katze nodded wearily. Another fucking decision to make, in the end this was a game of profit and loss. "I've noticed over the last few weeks their personal bookings are flat and Peter's is in decline. At this rate, it'll be soon time for him to fend for himself."

Speculatively both men turned and regarded the duo. Donovan leaned down and whispered in Katze's ear. "We do have Admon. Wanna try him out?"

"Yeah…" Katze flicked his bang irritably changing the subject. "Did you find Sir Asshole?"

Donovan peered at his Boss curiously but kept his own counsel. "As near as I can figure, the limo he followed you in is gone. So he legged it, I guess."

Impromptu singing from the doorway caught both their attention as a few newbie's trooped in, already three sheets to the wind. Katze eyes drifted to the minder at the door who gave a preemptory nod. They were clean – no weapons, no listening devices, just copious amounts of credit.

"Fresh meat, Boss."

Katze dispassionately regarded the group of dissipated men negotiating the crowded bar room floor towards a private booth. Jupiter he was tired and the sight of the rain soaked entourage just made him feel more so, but he suspected at least the remaining salons would now be booked, that was something anyway.

"Guy?"

"Sorted." Donovan replied while eyeing the newest entrants with the usual suspicion.

"Liar…but I'm not up to his bullshit right now. I'll see you in the morning."

"Ice it. Eat something. I'll take it from here."

An auburn brow quirked, "I'm paying you too much."

Donovan chuckled. "Not nearly enough, Boss Man. Not nearly enough."

The lithe darkly clad male moved off toward the back stairs, feeling Donovan's querulous gaze upon his back. He turned.

"Yeah?"

Nervously scratching the back of his head, Donovan grimaced, paling with embarrassment. "Thanks."

"For?" Katze countered patiently.

"You know. My brother…stuff…Guy…you know. Just thanks."

Golden eyes narrowed as he studied his No. 1. "Switch it up," the dealer waved at the revolving dais with obvious fatigue, "before they bore the clients to death. That'll be thanks enough."

Donovan's grin lit up his handsome weathered face. "G'Night, Boss."

Katze mounting the stairs with relief, he didn't need gratitude. In the end, they had each others back, that was gratitude enough. He would check in on Admon though before returning to his quarters for some well deserved rest.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Carefully Katze closed the door behind him and perched upon the dresser across from the rumpled bedding and its occupant. He looked angelic in sleep, despite the evident furrow of well tended brows.

Admon was dreaming, but of what?

There was no question he was exquisite, handsome even in the right light, but more so eerily beautiful, Katze decided, continuing to watch with rapt attention the sinuous movements of the prone figure in restless sleep. Admon clutched the soft sheets beneath his fingers and whimpered as though in pain.

.

For a moment Katze toyed with waking him but thought better of it as long fingers slackened their grip and smoothed the rumpled silk. Quietly amused by the incongruity of the sight, the dealer shook his head. Admon had revealed himself, however subconsciously as a neat-nick.

He really was living symmetry and grace, not born for the task he was now relegated to, a body for hire. What a body too Katze mused, drinking in the supple shift of strong, agile muscles beneath warm, delicious skin. Jupiter he needed a smoke, if only to distract his nethers from the unconscious seduction taking place.

The voluminous robes strategic design only served to enhance Admon's well honed musculature, exposing just enough to tease, to entice. Maybe Donovan was right. The thought really irritated though of myriad hands and other body parts intruded on what he subconsciously knew was sacred space not meant to be defiled.

He was too perfect, maybe even enhanced though nothing in his bio records indicated that. Someone of great power had owned him once. That was self evident by his manner, bearing and the secret he still kept.

An ominous chill shot through the dealer as he continued to drink in the vision before him with growing trepidation at the fitful form who cast the remaining sheets aside exposing pale muscled legs and a small scar mid thigh. Katze leaned forward perplexed by the sight. It was a raised, twisted and angry by comparison to the otherwise smooth expanse of delectable skin.

Silently, Katze moved forward for a better look. He was just too perfect he thought cautiously running a finger over the mark, definitely alien in origin. It had to be his imagination that he had seen something like it before.

Fucking Blondies were making him paranoid. Katze blinked as a memory ghosted teasingly within only to be quashed by a soft reverberating voice.

"It is my former Master's crest."

Katze started pulling back his hand as though burnt, embarrassed at being caught as dark red eyes glowed in amusement up at him. The dealer self consciously adjusted his bang, hiding his own scar.

"You always do that when unnerved, fortunately few notice this idiosyncrasy."

The dealer stood, his traitorous fingers sifting through auburn silk, unwittingly confirming the wry observation. "Admon, you need to stop that."

Flexing languidly Admon carelessly tossed a wealth of strawberry blonde curls over an exposed shoulder. Katze watched, thoroughly enraptured as long fingers caressing the opulent ream of crimson silk about lean hips. "Stop what, Master Katze?"

Katze waved his hands in frustration and gritted his teeth in pain though inquisitive amber eyes were glued to the subtle rise of cloth at the apex of Admon's sex, matching his own. "Stop it now or you will be working tonight and it won't be me!"

"No…" Admon retorted softly, swinging long legs off the bedding. "So be it. I live to serve."

When the fuck had he lost control? He hadn't meant it. "I give the fucking orders around here, Admon. Get back in bed." Even to his ear the command sounded petulant.

Admon sighed, gracefully uncoiling himself as he rose. The rain had stopped, the silver light without beckoning his sight as he padded to the small window overlooking the back alley, his eyes rising to the heavens for confirmation. They were there as he had anticipated, their respective glow almost touching tonight; how apropos.

"If you believe nothing else, believe this, my Master. You have nothing to fear from me. I will never probe your mind unless you so wish it. We all deserve to keep our secrets until such time that we can deal with them effectively."

The light of the moons came through the thin screen casting a silvery sheen atop Admon's head. An eerie silence followed. He was too perfect, but not a threat. Katze could feel that in his gut.

"What secrets?" Katze murmured, lighting his filter tip, inhaling the sweet smoke, like life's breath while watching Admon's graceful gait.

"Oh just the ones we select to keep from ourselves in hopes of avoiding the imagined fall from grace."

Too perfect, Katze thought again, just too fucking perfect, "Why are you here, Admon? Why did you _allow_ yourself to be caught?"

Slowly the Karinese turned, away from the ambient light to face his accuser. "I don't know, Master Katze. You brought me here and now, I simply do not know. Time will tell. It always does. I can only hope it will lead me back to the One. You are both connected. I can see it in your eyes. Until then, I will serve. I live to serve."

For a moment in the mottled light so regal and proud in his honesty, that vague feeling of foreboding returned. The one felt when they had touched briefly in the hallway.

It was his stance and in the subtle play of silvered light and shadow upon his face. It was the impertinence and force of the knowing gaze that held his, why he saw the likeness. Perhaps not of look, but definitely of bearing, Raoul Am's Ruby, so well hidden in the alcove, away from prying eyes, alone but sacred.

"Describe the One."

Admon stood in graceful silence, refusing to speak. Simply watching as clarity dawned in cognac eyes.

Katze sighed aloud, the dull ache in his wrist returned on cue. He would allow Admon's reticence this once because they both already knew the answer and maybe, just maybe he was right about secrets.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Champagne had its merits, Raoul mused downing the last of the contents within the long stemmed crystal flute. He was bored. Three quarters of a bottle had indeed induced a surprisingly pleasant mental lassitude. It might even be said, a certain level of tolerance had come into those verdant green eyes, currently at half mast watching the attractive mongrel's progress down the hall, favoring his wrist.

It had been fascinating if truth be told watched the wretched little thing efficiently patrolling his territory facilitating business, having quiet conversations with the Donovan fellow, seemingly placating that portly little servant and engaging in a rather heated exchange with an employee that ended with fisticuffs.

Raoul shook his head and adjusting a pillow behind his neck against the headboard.

Wretched little creature was not designed for that manner of base activity.

Pale full lips curved into a lascivious smirk. He could think of far more useful activities.

Sleepy green eyes scanned the darkened bedroom, well pleased with the changes made under his expert hand. The petals had to go for a start and he didn't much care for the crimson sheets either, far too reminiscent of the plaything, but they would have to suffice under the circumstances.

"Pleasure him, indeed," Raoul murmured, reaching for the cool, sweating bottle and carefully pouring the last of its contents. Superior hearing was a most gratifying aspect of being enhanced. The quiet hush of the outer office portal giving rise to heightened awareness of scent and movement signaling the dormant predatory shift within his agile mind, the games were about to begin.

Slowly, the bedroom door opened, revealing the familiar shadowed presence. Raoul watched as Katze's shoulders slumped with an accompanying resigned sigh.

Not quite the picture or reaction the disrobed Elite had had in mind.

Raoul pursed his lips in thought as the mongrel entered the room fully and quietly closed the door behind him.

"I take it you have been fucking this Admon creature?"

**Author's Note**

Oh Katze, Oh Raoul, Lord but you both will be the death of me. Ladies and gents, I sincerely hope you enjoyed. This is the single longest chapter I have EVER written for one of my fics!. The hell is about to begin, this night. See you soon. Let me know.

**EP**


	15. Chapter 14

**Black Moon Rising**

By: ElegantPaws with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature – Adult Content

Parts: **WIP** – **14** of ?

Reviews are fuel.

"_For Hespera…*GRIN*_."

Chapter **14** of ? – **Kissed By Nature** (Post OVA)

**~~~BMR~~~**

Katze leaned heavily against the door, ignoring the thrum of his heart and the sudden rising warmth and tension within his loins. The question merited no reply and would only add fuel to Raoul's fire.

The dealer shook his head and sighed. It was almost amusing the irony of the situation. Either way he was fucked. He had two choices; accept and find a way to enjoy it or rebel and incur the wrath of the mercurial Blondie.

"I need a smoke. May I, Sir Am?"

Raoul quirked a brow, giving the request considered thought, before beneficently inclining his head a fraction. "Correct me if I am wrong, but shouldn't you be indulging in that reprehensible habit of yours following and you still haven't answered my question?"

The dealer was thankful for the serpentine fingers of smoke which offered the illusion of privacy as his eyes narrowed speculatively, drinking in shadowed form within his bed, sheets lovingly caressing a truly magnificent specimen.

"No, I haven't fucked him…yet, Sir Am." He was perfect alright, but in no way angelic, not with that between his legs.

Raoul's gaze grew smug following the trajectory of those exotically tilted eyes in their secretive caress. What was the cunning little creature thinking about, aside from the obvious?

Katze blushed and self-consciously feathered his bang with pained fingers. The mongrel winced, suppressing a groan. How long had he been staring?

"Come here, Katze. I wish to look at that hand."

The dealer's hackles rose. Raoul was almost purring - never a good sign.

Uttering a long suffering sigh, the Elite beckoned the dealer once more and patted the bedding lovingly. "I'm feeling inordinately tolerant tonight, if you haven't noticed? Come here."

"Free champagne will do that…Sir Am." Katze murmured diffidently, stilling his progress, observing for the first time the tray of appetizers alongside the nightstand and the as yet unopened magnum left in the bucket of ice. It seemed that Kato was feeling generous tonight.

Raoul chuckled softly and eyed the bucket. "Delightful vintage, Katze, no doubt spillage from an interstellar carrier, these things _do_ happen?"

Instinctively the dealer froze by the foot of the bed, noting the growing tension in Raoul's shoulders and the flex of powerful bicep muscles beneath glowing alabaster skin that belied the soothing baritone. Katze shivered involuntarily as he looked into cold, bottle green that held a predatory gleam, akin to a serpent about to strike.

"I will over-look your not so veiled attempt at asserting a spine. Come here now!"

"Why?"

Sheets were quickly discarded as the towering male rose to his full imposing height and lunged at his prey with unerring accuracy of movement. No time for retreat as taut muscles coiled dangerously about his slender neck in answer. The warm supple skin of Raoul's forearm tightened, adding pressure to his clavicles.

"Fuck!" Katze hissed, sinking to his knees in pain. Raoul's hot breath ghosted across his cheek, sending a shiver through him.

"Ooooooh not …_yet_, the night is young." Raoul whispered softly into his ear, splaying the fingers in front of Katze's face and deliberately rotated his wrist counter clockwise.

White hot pain darkened the mongrel's vision as he began to pant.

"Yeeeeeeees, definitely a sprain," Raoul purred maliciously releasing the long fingered hand, well pleased as Katze crumpled to the floor in agony. "Get undressed."

The wretched creature was slowly uncurling from the tight ball of pain to stand unsteadily with bowed head, nerveless fingers clumsily undoing the shirt, while his arm hung limply at his side.

Raoul wondered absently if the arm had been dislocated in their little tussle. He had heard a pop, but had thought nothing of it at the time.

I'll see to the bottle," Raoul added with what he felt was magnanimity, under the circumstances. Katze was barely managing the shirt. "Do you need help?"

Katze gritted his teeth in pain. "No…Sir Am."

This was how it was meant to be. A modicum of discipline always garnered the right results as was evidenced by the redhead's sudden shift to quiescent acceptance, dutifully awaiting his every behest.

Iason was quite wrong.

Sleepy green eyes smiled benignly down at the wretched creature currently making a hash of removing the soft shirt from the limp arm. Sighing tolerantly, Raoul popped the cork and generously filled the untouched flute, refilling his own.

"Katze?"

Amber eyes fogged with pain looked up nervously into querulous, suddenly benevolent emerald green. "Yes, Sir Am?"

"Come here, little one. You appear to be having difficulties."

The redhead closed his eyes, hating his fate. Iason had nothing on Raoul when it came to slow torture. "My arm is dislocated, Sir Am. Allow me to put it back in."

Raoul shook his head. They were so fragile. Still, the soft well modulated tone of voice was most gratifying and it did wonders for his mood. Just this once he would humor the creature.

**~~~BMR~~~**

"I have no need of sustenance at this time."

Admon's steely otherworldly gaze could be disconcerting at the best of times, Kato quietly considered, placing his dinner tray resolutely upon his folded lap. "Master Katze insists as do I."

It was far easier to thank the well meaning servant and be done with it. "Thank you, Mr. Kato. Good Night."

The portly servant adjusted his nighttime smock, unsure as to whether to stay or leave and watch Admon eat. The Master asked so little of him, other than tending about his personal care and now Admon's.

Kato smiled secretively pleased with what this could mean for his Master. Perhaps, just perhaps the dealer was considering a Pairing Partnership of sorts at long last.

Admon grimaced, clutching the shoulder of his right arm, spilling the tray.

"See, what you have done? Now I have to clean this up before bed. Admon, Admon, Admon, Master Katze will not be pleased, this is some of his best china."

"BE SILENT! Your incessant chatter irritates! GET OUT!" Admon snarled, chasing the frightened little man from the room and reengaging the security lock with a relieved sigh.

Closing his eyes, Admon sank to the floor and refocused his attention. He had to, if he was to be of any use to his Master this night.

Trust was a hard won thing, particularly in the area of touch. Admon knew this, but how to get through to two difficult entities bound and determined to preventing that most deeply sought by both.

**~~~BMR~~~**

A flaw in his physical makeup to be sure, but who expected to be pinned and injured just for sport by one who had inherently superior strength?

Katze's face was drawn and tense, paler than usual as he looked at his reflection above the bathroom sink. The pain was tangible, and almost preferable to what awaited him in the bedroom. Jupiter, he had never needed Donovan's strength more.

Donovan always managed to put the fucker back into its socket on the first try, but he couldn't ask and put his No.1 at risk. This was his problem. He would have to do it himself, using the cold shower stall.

With luck, when he re-entered the room the bastard would be fast asleep and none the wiser of the physical forbearance it would take to do so, unaided. No fucking way he was going to give Raoul the satisfaction and be beholden to his tormentor.

Every movement brought with it white hot pain. The wrist was the least of his worries.

Katze bit his lower lip, shifting his focus as best he could and entered the stall with determination, the salty, metallic taste of his own blood on his tongue, a reminder of what was at stake. If he failed to please the Elite, by keeping him waiting, who knows what would come of the night.

"Why the fuck doesn't he just kill me, and put us both out of my misery," Katze murmured distantly, resting his good shoulder against the wall taking another deep breath and steadying his mind. Raising the limp arm by painful increments, cradling it against his chest he moaned quietly.

"Where would the fun be in that, little one?" Raoul queried pleasantly, leaning against the bathroom door, one long fingered hand holding both glasses of bubbling liquid precariously.

Katze glared through pain filled eyes. The fucker was wearing one of his robes. It looked ridiculous on a male his size, but it covered all the vitals, that was a blessing. He didn't need the distraction.

"A bit small I will admit," Raoul fussed with the sleeves with feigned self-consciousness, before shifting his indolent gaze back to Katze, "see about making sure there is something serviceable in future. I prefer…"

"Green…"

A beatific smile covered Raoul's handsome face as he practically beamed at Katze for showing such intuitive brilliance. "You are a clever, observant little thing, aren't you? Then again, you always were."

The mongrel narrowed his eyes, before turning his back. "I'll be out in a minute, Sir Am, excuse me, please."

"No! I told you, I am feeling remarkably tolerant tonight and came to see if you required assistance. I grow tired of you weighing the pros and cons of adjusting your limb. It will make no difference to the outcome."

Katze gritted his teeth, stifling a moan of pain and frustration. "Donovan is busy minding the store. He usually takes care of this. I can do it. I just need to work up to it. You wouldn't understand."

"Stuff and nonsense!" Raoul barked, purposefully placing both long stemmed glasses on the vanity and padded across the room, turning the mongrel to face him.

The dealer refused to look up, preferring to gaze with bleary pain filled eyes at the smooth expanse of warm, ivory skinned before him.

"Look at me and don't ask why in that tone you favor. It tends to make me brutish to you. That's how this little …_misunderstanding_ occurred in the first place." Raoul sighed.

A wry smile came to the mongrel's lips as he slowly looked up into cold, matter-of-fact green, currently making a detailed study of his countenance.

Raoul bent, licking the swollen puffy flesh, his eyes had taken a fancy to. Katze gasped in surprise at the softness of the tongue's caress, closing his eyes, willing the feelings elicited to subside, as soft golden curls brushed his cheek. The Elite raised his head with a frown as a gentle finger tip passed over the bruised lower lip, examining the pink tinged digit in meditative silence.

"Katze, Katze, Katze, your little tantrum caused this," Raoul added with a feigned fatigue as he lowered his head again, hovering briefly over nervously licked lips, taking them once more, robbing the mongrel of air.

A painful pressure was applied to his shoulder as it was wrenched counter clockwise, causing his knees to fail. The muffled pop accompanied by thrumming pain resounded within his head as warm lips, charmed, seared and soothed the sharp pain to a dull, throbbing ache.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon flinched, gripping his own shoulder in empathy, with eye lids tightly closed. He took the pain, allowing it to pass through him undiluted, knowing full well where it might lead as Katze's mind floated, meandering down circuitous pathways, through clouded memory, deeper and deeper into the hidden recesses of memory. No time to choose, he followed.

The usual fog lifted as their minds merged revealing an operating theatre, clinically in its gray, cold indifference. Admon could feel his own being or was it Katze's hovering above a body, barely a teen with flame red hair and distinctive well sculpted features that held the promise of handsomeness.

It was Katze, himself.

Admon curled into a ball atop the carpeted floor, breathing harshly through dry lips. Pain, excruciating pain; instinctively he clutched at his groin.

The mongrel had not been fully sedated rendered inert by medication half way through his procedure that looked to be more than simple castration. Muffled voices and shadowed presences spoke above him, entirely indifferent to his well being, deciding which manner of castration to perform that would best suit the needs of his new household.

Admon's heart began to race as he struggled for air, feeling the frightened teens every passing thought. He had to maintain control. This was the past he was observing, he reminded himself. Katze had made it through. He must not internalize the memories. They were facets of the past and no longer had the visceral power of truth. His new Master was whole again.

Steadying his breathing with controlled thought, the Karinese refocused his energies, allowing the basso murmurs to become language and then intelligible words. His eyes flew open, recognizing that well modulated voice.

"He can hear you know, not that he will remember. We shouldn't prolong this. Despite the other work performed successfully, he might die of shock from the pain alone, look at his brain function. It would entirely defeat the purpose of the long term experiment."

Warm crystalline tears flowed down Admon's face in sudden realization. He had no right to own, to participate in something buried for so long and so deeply.

Slowly crawling across the room, he began to gather the strewn shards of porcelain. He would find Mr. Kato and apologize. Above all else, he would need to keep his own counsel from henceforth until such time that Katze was ready to deal.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Pain was always relative the Ceres mongrel chided himself, as he opened his mouth with a soft moan and leaned into the taut body keeping him upright and groaned in sinful pleasure while a hot tongue voraciously explore unhindered. Inquisitive fingers made quick work of relieving him of his shirt and smoothly glided to the buckle at his waist releasing it, sliding it from the loops with a sharp hush of indecent speed.

No point protesting, it felt so damn good as did the slow sensual grind of Raoul's hips. If nothing else, the bastard knew how to kiss, he thought abstractly, allowing his good arm to rise smoothly over a warm, tense shoulder into the wealth of silk at the nap of Raoul's neck. "So soft," he whispered against Raoul's lips, pressing his hips forward, enjoying the throbbing heat and friction as they moved together in sensual promise. "Bed, now."

He felt Raoul's smile against the swollen flesh of his mouth and the not so gentle nip to his abused lower lip. "Food, first and a sling, I should think."

Entirely confused by the non sequitur, Katze opened his eyes and looked up into amused bottle green eyes currently at half mast, while clearly enjoying the feel of Katze's fingers idle carding of the cool silken strands, meditatively at the back of his skull. "With all due respect…"

A warm finger tip brushed velvet soft lips in warning, leaning forward, heavily and pinning him against the cool wall. "We have spoken of this little phrase before, Katze. Do not take my indulgence too far," he almost purred into mongrel's ear as long powerful arms encircled Katze's waist. "Tonight alone, I will allow you the privilege of speaking your mind, within reason of course."

Katze gasp as warm lips tasted the base of his throat and wended their way with wet kisses up the side of his neck, eliciting delicious shivers, as he carefully cradled his throbbing arm, using their respective chests as sling.

He had said speak his mind. "Isn't this why you broke into my bedroom, so you could get your jollies and leave?"

Raoul lifted his head, a golden brow arched in mild affront. "Please, it took exactly thirty seconds to break your 'code' and I still intend to enjoy you at my leisure but first, you look in need of nourishment and I have a few questions."

Katze stiffened. "About, Sir Am?"

Sighing loudly, Raoul pulled back and glared at the object of his lust. "Why must you spoil these moments with your tiresome need to know?"

The redhead attempted to shrug and winced. "Just need to know what the deal is. If you want to fuck me, there is nothing I can do about it, but I need to know the rules. Don't want a repeat performance of the other night."

Raoul gazed down questioningly at the blank, amber stare and the stubborn tilt of a strong chin. The little creature was not joking. There was no passion in the level gaze, though his body said otherwise as it clung to his. He was very good at compartmentalizing, a definite flaw in a mongrel, but a skill set worthy of note. More than likely why he ruled the black market with an iron hand. Most of his kind were base and impassioned, but not this one. The hand rubbing methodically at the base of his skull continued, but at a slower pace, as exotically tilted eyes continue to stare up at him implacably.

Fascinating, but disconcerting nonetheless, another Elite quality in one not born to be so.

"Well, Sir Am? What is it to be, tonight?"

"I do not appreciate the tone, Katze. Lose it, or that arm will be wrenched permanently out of its socket, if only to teach you respect for your betters."

Katze bent his head in feigned submission. "My apologies, Sir Am. It is not my wish to displease you. I have things to do in just a matter of hours. I humbly request you do as you will to me and we can call it a night."

Raoul's eyes narrowed dangerously at the audacity of the simple statement, perturbed by how Katze had chosen to view their understanding. The Elite slowly backed away, feeling the rush of heat to his upper limbs that twitched in fury. If he didn't move, he would harm him.

The dealer watched Raoul silently retrace his steps back into the bedroom. His gait had been far too slow and controlled. Raoul wanted to kill him for the slight, but Katze wondered briefly about Iason's earlier comment and dismissed it. Sir Am simply needed to win like most Blondies unused to outright opposition to their wishes. That which he most dearly sought was victory, plain and simple.

"Fuckin' brats," Katz murmured and experimentally shifted his shoulder. Fuck it hurt, but he could deal he thought, slumping in relief against the cool tile with a prolonged sigh. At least this was a short reprieve he told himself, stepping out of the stall and reaching for the robe Kato always left behind the door.

Katze eased it over his shoulders carefully his amber eyes falling on the single glass of champagne left on the vanity. He rolled his eyes at his reflection. Apparently Raoul wasn't sufficiently pissed to have left _his_ flute. Katze snickered and downed the effervescent liquid. Probably the only glass he would get tonight - might as well enjoy.

"Then explain this!" Raoul practically hissed, but not from the bedroom, as Katze had originally thought.

"Explain what, Sir Am?" the dealer sighed heavily following the belligerent tone of voice to his outer office and froze at the resplendent feast set out; Kato and his timing or lack thereof. Damn he hadn't even noticed coming into the darkened room, more concerned by the ambient light beneath his bedroom port and the sinking feeling that he already knew who was in there.

The auburn haired male leaned heavily on the doors frame, mildly amused by the sight of Raoul Am holding the top of the serving tray like Exhibit A, as fragrant steam wafted upwards.

"It's called dinner, Sir Am." Katze's stomach gurgled embarrassingly, punctuating the comment. "I think you're right, I'm hungry. Care to join me? I don't eat much."

Raoul's brows twitched in irritation. "Watch the tone, mongrel and your point..." jewel toned eyes travelled briefly over the lean form of the dealer, "is self evident. A stiff wind and you would be lost."

Despite himself, Katze smiled and launched himself into the room. Perhaps it marked the first non-disparaging comment the Elite had ever leveled at him.

"Allow me to serve you, Sir Am?"

The lid was inordinately hot, that had to be why he felt flushed when Katze had smiled at him without guile, Raoul convinced himself, placing the lid atop the clearing tray.

Raoul watched with suspicion while the mongrel set about preparing two plates with the utmost of care. The arm was giving him difficulty, but years of practice in his former profession had come to his aid.

"It looks like Kato has outdone himself tonight. I really, didn't expect this, what with …"

Katze suddenly grew quiet filling the uncomfortable silence with busy efficient movements and precariously balancing the offering.

"If you would sit please, Sir Am, I am kind of at a disadvantage tonight with the holding thing?"

Raoul silently stepped around the lean figure with the nervous, furtive expression and gently took the utensils, placing them before him on the low table as Katze waited for him to be seated, dutifully.

The Elite stiffly accepted the proffered plate with a slight inclination of his head, noting Katze's shoulders had edged down a fraction. He had been afraid.

"Why are there two of everything?" Raoul asked casually around a morsel of succulent meat, watching as the mongrel chose to sit cross legged companionably across from him on the carpet.

Remarkably flexible under the circumstances, quite the feat and done gracefully without hands, something to consider for later. There might well be options in positioning him during coitus without undue stress to the arm.

"I'm waiting. Were you planning on bedding that …what do you call them?"

Katze played with the sparse offering on his own plate and sighed. "His name is Admon, Sir Am and yes, I was going to test the goods tonight. I need to set his price."

Raoul stilled. The wretched creature was far too direct at times, rather spoiling the game of thrust and parry, meant to put the little mongrel on the defensive. "Is this standard practice?"

The dealer, adjusted his injured arm securely into his lap and looked up tiredly at Sir Am before raising his fork once more, stabbing a leafy green saturated in an exotic mixture and chewed, his own gaze never leaving the Elite's.

"No, I happen to find him attractive, Sir Am. Usually I leave it to Donovan to work out the price point." Katze chuckled ruefully, stabbing another item, examining it with a quizzical auburn brown before lowering it back to the plate and selected another item in its place. "He enjoys the workout and I trust him."

Raoul realized he had been grinding his teeth, while observing the mongrel's finicky eating habits and reached for his empty flute in defense. "Get the champagne. I grow parched."

"Of course, Sir Am, as you wish. I can call down and get another? There are two bottles left." Katze offered, his narrowed gaze shifting from the Elite in comprehension. Raoul was jealous. He didn't much like his toy, wanting to play with another. The Elite constitution was hardy, but at this rate, he would be out like a light soon. It was worth the loss of something he rarely had the opportunity to enjoy.

The Elite abruptly stood and glided over to the wet bar, whose pressure sensitive doors opened, revealing a respectable setup. "That won't be necessary. We will finish what is in the bedroom and if need be," Raoul waved dismissively at the bottles, "something here will suffice."

Katze winced and began levering himself with one arm. It was easier going down than coming up.

"Sit. I will retrieve the bottle." Raoul commanded, retracing his steps to the bedroom.

The dealer flopped in relief and examined the half eaten plate across from him, eying the door quickly, before using Raoul's fork to prong the shell fish with a grin. Raoul wouldn't miss it. He had been playing with it anyway for the last ten minutes. Obviously, he didn't want it or like it for that matter.

Katze had manfully pronged its delicious companion, closing his eyes in bliss as he chewed with relish, then froze suddenly aware that he had been observed.

Raoul's expression was peculiarly speculative as he studied his prey.

The dealer felt uncomfortably beneath the inscrutable gaze and hurriedly began to apologize. "Sorry, I'll make you a new plate, Sir Am."

Pale well formed lips quirked a fraction at their corners, "Katze, we have shared bodily fluids before and will again. I have taken no offense, other than observing the unexpected atrocity of your table manners."

Katze blushed avoiding Raoul's amused eyes as he refilled his own flute and resettled himself on the couch, retrieving his own plate.

"Where were we?'

"Donovan?" Katze shrugged and winced again. He kept forgetting.

Raoul actually smiled down his patrician nose at the mongrel, helping himself to the hidden companion of Katze's quarry nestled lovingly beneath some manner of vegetable, beyond overcooked by Raoul's standards.

"Palatable and no, I believe my query had more to do with why you had departed from your usual protocol with your _whores_. It is my understanding he is known for his exceptional mouth, is that the source of the attraction, or were you simply curious about what it would feel like to bury your member in another, finally?"

Katze choked, champagne spewing from his nostrils as he sputtered. "What?"

As if nothing untoward had occurred, Raoul threw a neatly folded napkin at Katze's face and continued to smirk as he selected another tidbit for consumption.

"Ahhh, as I suspected. Pour yourself another, Katze. I told you, I am feeling inordinately generous tonight."

**~~~BMR~~~**

Kato mumbled to himself, walking back and forth down the long darkened hallway that led to his Master's private lair. This sudden ferocity had to be reported. Admon was in actuality dangerous. The Master had to be told.

Taking a deep breath, the elderly man stopped in front of the unassuming wall space that hid a door behind the holographic image of a plain mirrored wall. Kato straightened as best he could, nervous gnarled fingers reaching for the invisible keypad.

"Don't."

The elderly man swung around to face the disembodied voice, almost losing his balance in fear.

Admon gently steadied the tottering old man. "The Master would prefer to be left alone this night, Mr. Kato. He has an important guest."

"Admon, why are you in this hallway? It is strictly forbidden, unless otherwise called."

Kneeled in front of the bent, frightened elder, Admon weighed the merits of an honest approach that allowed for grace and the perception of authority and status within their tenuous bound. "I humbly apologize, Mr. Kato. My conduct towards you was unconscionable. I assure you, it will never happen again."

Pursing wizened lips, Kato subjected Admon to a lingering look, dark eyes mere pinpoints of discernable light, while assessing the true depths of Admon's supposed contrition.

"See that it doesn't." Kato huffed, unconvinced. The feral look had abated somewhat in those flame colored eyes.

Kato would not soon forget the sudden constriction within his chest and the inability to breathe when Admon had raised his fist and lunged towards him with menace. It felt as if Admon had been holding his heart in his hand by some ancient necromantic means.

No, regardless the Master had to be told. He was a viper in their midst awaiting the first opportune moment strike his quietly benevolent Master, on whose shoulders so many lives rested; lives that once were forfeit either by circumstance or the misfortune of birth.

Kato's face grew grim and determined as he rolled his arthritic hands into tight balls, prepared to fight.

"I will not allow anyone to hurt, him."

Admon raised his head, dark ruby eyes aglow. "Neither will I, Kato. My future rests with him."

**~~~BMR~~~**

To say they had eaten the rest of their meal in companionable silence would be a lie, peppered as the conversation was with leading questions about the club, the clientele and the daily goings on, all of which Katze resented. Had it been anyone else, this meeting would have ended abruptly.

Katze had grown uncomfortably aware of Raoul again as the meal came slowly to a close and dessert was in the offing. Jupiter he regretted asking Kato for the chocolate sweets. The man had gone to such lengths to acquire them too. No repeat performance, even if on home turf.

"Dessert? I think you'll like it, Master Am."

Pale amber eyes carefully assessed Raoul under lowered lids. The Elite was holding up well considering the amount he had drunk. His poised bearing had given way to long, supplely limbed indolence of movement. Katze eyes flicked to Raoul's face and paused as emerald green twinkled cunningly back, well aware of the true nature of the query.

Katze was still looking for an out, however distant the possibilities – irritating.

"I have no doubt I will enjoy it …_too_." He placed emphasis on the final word with a smirk. "I rather like being served by you."

"Serviced more like," Katze muttered under his breath, rising to his knees and began the arduous task of clearing with one limb. He had no intention of calling Kato in now. Old habits did die hard. He would just neaten the area and bring the carafe of coffee along with dessert through to the bedroom, even if it took two trips. It was simply time to get this over with.

The Elite sighed contentedly and watched with lazy indolence the surprisingly efficient grace displayed. He had to admit being somewhat aroused by the subtle shift of muscle beneath the gown that was haphazardly draped over Katze's shoulders and tied with a certain prime finality about the mongrel's lean waist. The Blondie pursed his lips, his stare growing hooded as he chided himself for a lack of forethought, raising the crystal to his lips and sipped.

He really should have removed Katze's trousers earlier. It would have made for a far more titillating sight, not to mention it would have made an excellent barometer of the creature's true interest in the proceedings.

Ah well he sighed again still contented by the sight before him though Katze's back was turned. Slight of build maybe but he did have a magnificent form.

"Leave those. Come here."

Katze turned cautiously with the carafe. "What about dessert, Sir Am?"

"You _are_ dessert, Katze. I would have thought that obvious to one such as yourself who delights in calculating each move of his opponent."

Jupiter but he wanted to smack that insufferably smug look off the Elite's exquisite face.

Raoul chuckled lightly, raising his flute in salute. "See, you're doing it as we speak. You are such an enigmatic creature, Katze, but those eyes betray you."

The prick obviously imagined this was going to go all his own way, well not this time if he could help it. He was gonna get something out of it too.

"Come here…" Raoul's tone brooked no argument. "Now."

"As you wish, Master Am, I live to serve."

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon regarded his bleeding thumb with genuine curiosity as another crimson drop pebbled atop the pale digit.

He smiled, placing the injured finger beneath the caressing warmth of the running water, allowing it to sooth the minor injury. It was only fitting that he, not Kato, retrieve the shattered porcelain of his dinner tray. Such a small price, he mused squeezing his thumb, allowing the blood to flow freely into the sink. Entirely mesmerized by the life giving elixir as it swirled in diluted eddies down the drain, he heard as if in echo, his Master's voice. The last words he had spoken to him as he boarded his flight. Those words resonated now in a new and most profound way.

"_Within each crimson drop is a history and if followed to its true end can reveal all manner of secrets, some of which could rock the foundations of long held beliefs. It is the Dark Moon Rising, Admon."_

.

Admon reclined atop the fresh sheets and breathed, his only companion this night the silvered sliver of a twin reaching the deep carpeting in the cloistered darkness, the room's only source of light.

There was little else to be done now, he would simply wait. Kato was not convinced of his sincerity. That might prove problematic in the days to come. Still he would protect his new Master until he was ready. He would give him no reason to doubt.

Closing his eyes the Karinese drifted back to the warmth; back to touch; back to laughter; back to a chaste kiss.

**~~~BMR~~~**

From a great distance he heard it, the sound of voices below the open window, as a deceptively soft breeze wafted within, causing gooseflesh upon his good arm that smoothed, hot, damp resilient muscles beneath his finger tips.

He groaned as pinpoints of light met the filmy darkness beneath his closed lids, each time Raoul's cock sent sparks from the grazing of his pleasure point within.

Laughter, slurred words carried upon the wind to his hearing, joining the thrum of his heart beat as warm skin cosseted him, cradled him and wet lips, warm, moist and insistent stole his breath.

Katze faced the fact, as his mind powered down. It would always probably end this way, regardless of pain and mild discomfiture upon entry; he was his.

It would always be this way until the game played out and another was found that would best sate the urge to copulate.

"Yeeeeeeeees, fuck ….mmmmmmm….so good," the redhead practically purred.

Raoul moaned his pleasure, burying his nose in the warm fragrant silk of Katze's neck, being careful of the arm separating them. It was the least he could do. This was heaven, he mused dazedly, snapping his hips forward again and again with growing urgency. The slick, clinging heat as he slid home more than met the want of his expectation as Katze shuddered into each powerful thrust, allowing, wanting, needing, accommodating the conquest of his flesh with the answered undulation of his spine, rising to meet and accept.

A baleful moan escaped Katze's lips, causing Raoul to open his eyes. Had he hurt him?

Not now, he had been so careful; he was smaller, that had to be taken in account, if for no other reason, it would affect his compliance the next time, because there surely would be a next time.

Slowly he raised his tousled mane and looked down on that near angelic visage, lost in its own bliss. How beautiful he seemed, almost glowing. His lips parted, trembling waiting, the furrow of delicate brows, pained pleasure evident upon his well sculpted face.

No, he was fine. A great comfort Raoul realized, taking his lips once more as he shifted his weight and powerful forearms, lifted those long sinuous legs higher, almost touching his ears, allowing for greater penetration.

He was flexible, a benefit, he thought contentedly as quivering internal muscles welcomed him more fully.

"Jupiter, I hate you, but you're really good at this." Katze stuttered between breaths, opening his own eyes lazily, as a shadowed countenance regarded him with a glazed, unfocussed and definitely smug expression.

"So tight," Raoul moaned as the dull repetitive thud of moist flesh met flesh rhythmically.

"Harder…do it harder. Make me feel it, Sir Am. Make me remember, you were there before anyone else."

Raoul psyche splintered in that moment with the passion filled request as Katze's coiled form surrendered, arching his spine into each powerful twist, the throbbing wetness of his cock cleaved to Raoul's own abdomen, allowing the friction to take him to fruition.

Katze wanted him. Despite the protest, the mongrel wanted him.

The Elite's hips stilled as he raised himself on powerful forearms and glared, as best he could, at the male lying below him.

Katze wanted him. This was new. Even with all the protestations, he had wanted him. He lied.

Raoul dipped his head as sleepy, lust hazed amber eyes regarded him in question, while the body beneath grew taut in apprehension, its owner very afraid he had said something wrong - again.

"I have always wanted you," Raoul murmured against soft lips, amazed at his own candor as he felt the smile against his lips and his own body began to move of its own volition, following the age old cadence, taking what was his and always had been with renewed vigor.

"No shit," Katze answered breathlessly. "So get it over with already. We both have things to do."

Raoul's muffled growl of threat was met with feather light touches to the thick twisted mass of silk, caressed by the mongrel. "Fight later. Fuck now, please, Master Am. I need to cum as do you, I can't take much more of this."

Increasing his pace while smothering those importunate lips with his own, Raoul obliged with preemptive nips to soft lips, "Be careful what you ask for, little mongrel. I have not yet begun to claim ownership to what is rightfully mine or yours for that matter."

It was the _or yours_, that stilled Katze. He hung on that cusp for an infinitesimal moment of realization, and his abdominal muscles tightened and his cock pulsed and his balls gave and gave as ascribed by nature and nerve, need and sinew surrendered to the hallowed bliss and anointed their respective flesh.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon stilled, feeling the trickle of warmth between his own legs. A single tear rolled down his cheek. It was done. Another way would have to be found, the night was young yet. They had, unbeknownst to them, forged the beginning of their bond.


	16. Chapter 15

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature – Mature Content

Parts: **WIP** – **15** of 25

Reviews are fuel.

"_For __**Ainzfern, **__**A_ngua, & Bahen**__ for their intellect, wisdom, sensuality and unstinting support_."

**Chapter 15** of 25 – **A Fool's Errand** (Post OVA)

**~~~BMR~~~**

A muffled groan of blissful surrender escaped Katze's lips. He was lost as long, strong fingers caressed, smacked then grasped his butt cheeks spreading them and slowly lowering the mongrel to meet the velvety, slick head that nudged his entrance with teasing thrusts of agile hips.

Katze gasped, shivering in anticipation as he crouched lower over Raoul's hips in open invitation and a dare as their eyes met through burning droplets of sweat. He coiled his aching limb around a broad, sweat slicked back for purchase, as his thighs strained in heavenly duress.

"Your knees are going to give out." Raoul chuckled breathlessly as the headboard protested behind his back as Katze leaned forward and took Raoul's parted lips, effectively ending the discourse on positioning. God the feel of those hot fingertips gliding down his back, sliding down his sides and stilling his movement, however temporarily.

Katze smiled secretively as he continued to ravage full pale lips and thrust his own aching cock against a hot wet abdomen of smooth rippling muscles. Just right, he thought absently as he prepared to strike.

The scent of sweat, the musk of sex, and muffled oaths of conquest had proven impossible to resist as their teeth clashed and Katze impaled himself fully on Raoul's hot, thick shaft. It burnt, like an ancient throbbing brand within, sending hot sparks of light behind his closed lids with each punishing upward thrust.

Raoul moaned, amazed he could enjoy being the object of lust. Oh yes, the object of fear, the object of respect, but not of want. Not the searing need he had seen briefly in those expressive depths as they closed and a grimace of pained pleasure overtook the near flawless countenance before him.

He was so open in his passion, but was it a passion for passions sake? Would Admon have done in equal measure to release this being who undulated above him with near wild abandon?

Raoul's lids shuttered as his eyes secretively caressed the supple form above him and preened inwardly. Katze was exquisite in this mode, an animal at its bestial peak, sinking deeper into his own halcyon bliss, oblivious to the picture he presented of warm, flushed skin that begged to be licked, smooth graceful movement and that proud cock sent a renewed quicksilver heat through the Elite as he firmly grasped Katze's hips and stilled them.

The mongrel fell forward, warm harsh breath fanning the salty skin of the Elite's neck as Katze began to suck the distended vein at Raoul's neck. The Elite shivered, unused to his own body's reactions to the touch. He stretched languidly enjoying the feel of that impertinent mouth, one arm clasping the limp wet body atop his while still intimately joined.

"Why?" Katze rasped against his neck in protest as an unexpected palm barely grasped his much neglected cock sending pleasurable shivers through him.

"Do you have any idea, just how many sensations one can create with a single touch, just here," Raoul demonstrated, his slicked thumb toying with the mongrel's over sensitized head.

Katze shuddered, willing the Elite to continue, feeling the subtle movement of an index finger, tracking the vein on the underside of his cock to its root.

"And here…" Raoul murmured teasingly against a damp neck. He licked moist salty skin, shifting the mongrel's focus once more with repeated undulations of his hips, receiving for his sensual assault a very satisfying guttural whimper of protest and annoyance.

Raoul noted with satisfaction the mongrel's little heart was beating out of his chest. It might be construed as unusual punishment, but it was infinitely more pleasurable to prolong the tryst this way he decided. After all, Katze was his toy and he would be allowed to come again, only when Raoul saw fit.

It was so odd when thoughts occurred, he mused, remembering the offensive creature's offer and in front of his face too. It still irked, the familiarity of that Admon creature cupping his mongrel's face and smiling at him in that clawing, fawning, possessive way.

Katze could feel the tension in Raoul's body rising as taut, warm muscles became steel beneath velvet and the loose grip around his cock tightened almost painfully; fuck but this one was batshit crazy when aroused.

What in hell was he thinking of now? His cock was buried deep, a burning pleasure of pulsing warmth within a body unused to this manner of invasion and he was still being a total asshole in his own right. What more did he want, Katze thought, feeling the tension subside by degree within the body beneath him and the sticky palm once again begin to pump his cock, growing slick again from pre-cum.

Thank Jupiter for small mercies, Katze thought gritting his teeth, adjusting to Raoul's renewed, near frantic pounding of his flesh. Something was wrong, but he would and could deal with it later, once he could stand that is.

Right now was all that mattered, he mused closing his eyes. He was lost again to the deafening beat of his own heart within his ears and the harsh mesmerizing cry of Raoul's deep resonant voice in release as the Elite clasped his body tightly, while relinquishing control.

With each shuddered moan uttered by the Elite, Katze was drawn closer to his own inexorable surrender. That mouth and tongue sought his once more as wet, pulsing surges coated his already drenched channel and still frenzied hips bucked, skewering him upon the quivering girth that possessively impaled him.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Breathlessly, they sighed.

Katze moaned, but differently this time. His arm was so fucked, despite his best efforts. The limb could not move from its current perch.

With an apologetic grin, Katze looking down into hooded eyes. Raoul had done nothing aside from breathe for the last minute or so, his eyes never leaving that of the mongrel's.

Katze had to admit it was becoming uncomfortable that meditative gaze as both strived to regain their composure.

It wasn't hateful, there was still definite lust, but it was…well, pensive, cautious even.

Raoul jogged his hips lightly, breaking eye contact as he eased the limb surprisingly gently off his shoulder and clasped the long fingered hand, examining it.

"You have beautiful hands. They were not designed for 'wet work', I believe is the term, you mongrels use. Do not make it a habit, your bones are fragile."

Katze chuckled, easing himself off Raoul's now flaccid, but still formidable cock with a grimace. Yeah, he would be feeling that for awhile. Twice for fucks sake, what had he been thinking?

"You need to stop hangin' around here, Sir Am. You're pickin' up all kinds of bad language," the redhead smiled with genuine amusement as he straightened his back at the side of the bed and stood, rather stiffly. The tell tale flood, as anticipated, coursing thickly down his inner thighs.

Too self-conscious to turn and meet Sir Am's gaze, Katze headed for the bathroom with what he hoped was dignity in a less than graceful stride.

Prurient and decidedly pleased green eyes followed the delectable blushing rump that still bore distinctive impressions of his fingertips. Lazily the Elite's eyes roamed further down as his lips curved into a smug smile.

Those lean muscled inner thighs were moist with his essence too, as they should be. His own sphincter twitched.

Raoul's brow rose, amazed at the rapidity of his own body's response and recovery; he pursed his lips, wondering why the sight of Katze's buttocks had caused that particular reaction. No, by his gait alone, the little mongrel could not stand another impromptu romp.

He eyed himself mildly amused at his own prowess. There were other means of sating the urge he thought, hearing the shower stall called into action, Katze was finicky about what went into his mouth.

A quick shower was in order and perhaps just perhaps, he could call on the mongrel's old profession just this once in tending to his hygienic needs.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Donovan was white with fury as he towered over the drug dealer who continued to laugh to himself, splayed as he was in the adjoining chaise next to the bed, covered in the girl's blood.

They hadn't had to have a lockdown in over three years - three fucking years. The cleaning crew was on their way, but he had to call the Boss. He had to decide. If it was up to him, the fucker would go the same way; an eye for an eye.

The bodyguard looked back at the gore filled bed. She looked so small, naked and helpless, her blank stare leveled at the ceiling, her mouth agape in a silent scream, heard by no one.

Eviscerated with clinical ease, a minor black singe around the gaping wound made by her own weapon; a weapon she thought would protect but instead had been turned against her.

Lockdown was the only choice to prevent panic.

Donovan tapped the com by the door and the lights flicked in the room and all the salons adjoining as security locks were automatically engaged, even on the first level, where patrons still drank, ogled those on the dais and remained oblivious to the horror upstairs.

A quiet rap at the door and he opened it, revealing three dark clad, masked men who entered the room with a sepulchral air about them, the last of which was given space as a long thin box hovered before him as if by its own volition.

The drug dealer's dazed eyes grew wide, understanding their purpose, but maintained his silence. They could do nothing without the scarred mongrel and he had him in the bag. They were both men of commerce, kindred spirits.

Everything had a price, even a minor indiscretion such as this.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Katze shivered beneath the welcomed cold onslaught of cascading droplets, clearing his fogged mind as he leaned heavily against the wall, regaining a proper perspective as the lights blinked out twice.

A lockdown. Would this fucking day never end?

Efficiently he cleaned himself, aware of the shadowed presence beyond the stall, but he didn't have time for the Elite, the flickering lights took precedence.

On cue his arm began to throb in earnest.

Just great. He closed the lever and quickly headed to the vanity drawer, extracting a long tube and regarded his own sodden profile as he removed the protective cap of the medicinal narcotic and pressed the plunger into his bicep with a sigh.

"What is that?" Raoul demanded, retrieving the quickly disposed of empty filament in the adjoining basin.

"Nothing, it just takes care of pain." Katze answered tersely, regarding the Elite in the mirror as he quickly dried himself, finally having use of both arms. "I don't have time to explain, Sir Am. I only ask that you remain here. It would be best."

Raoul nodded, mildly curious at the turn of events.

The lights flickered again. Donovan wanted to know where he was.

Padding to the com, Katze spoke. "Coming… which salon?"

Raoul's speculative gaze turned to the mongrel as he held the thin vile – not addictive. He would keep his own counsel for the moment, if only because of the implacably eerie expression on the mongrel's face as he spoke in hushed quiet coded speech to his own number one.

Katze's expression brooked no argument.

How odd that he could notice the firm set of that stubborn jaw line and the redhead's thinned lips. Katze was angry. Warm cognac eyes had grown decidedly cold and resolute as a white silken shirt was retrieved from the closet, before quickly being discarded for one of crimson instead.

The dealer regarded his reflection and brushed damp locks with nervous fingers, uncaring that the angry line of scar was prominent along his jaw line with his hair slicked away from a broad intelligent forehead.

The Elite stood his ground, simply waiting as the com was snapped off. There were times Katze did not look quite the mongrel he was; perplexing.

"Well, Katze?"

The redhead did not turn, preferring to regard the Elite in the mirror adjoining the closet as he buttoned his shirt and sighed.

"What we call lockdown. Just a precautionary measure, nothing for you to worry about, a client overstepped." Katze answered tersely, opening a dark paneled drawer whose contents caused Raoul to pause.

The drawer was deep, its surface akin to black velvet. What he saw upon the smooth dark material was a variety of lethal weaponry, some legal and some decidedly not. Raoul continued to watch with fascination as long tapered fingers glided over the metallic surfaces, almost lovingly.

Raoul's eyes narrowed uncomfortably aware that in this bedroom a former oasis replete with the softest of silks, velvet and muted sensual tones, also lay death if its sole occupant chose.

So much for the sybaritic dreams of sensory paradise, designed for a good fuck. The man was an enigma; a quietly sensual one, but an enigma nonetheless.

Those long, delicate fingers selected finally and pocketed an additional clip as an after thought.

"Please stay here, Sir Am. Discretion is everything in _**my**_ world. It would serve neither of us to bring you into this. His Excellency would never forgive me and that would make your current _indulgence_ as good as dead. Do you understand?"

A cold foreboding chill forming where his spine had been, this too was Katze. Raoul heard from a great distance the bedroom door hush closed as his mind wandered.

Those silent feet had left, along with the man- the conundrum, the entity whose warm clean scent still remained in the darkened room, leaving the Elite decidedly cold with his absence.

"Current indulgence, indeed," Raoul whispered in the silent room, retrieving the white silk shirt then tossing it aside in anger.

He found the control for the monitors secreted beneath the pillows and surfed, determined to find the salon in question. He would have answers.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Rather large confetti, at least that what it looked to be at first until Raoul managed the focus, bringing the image forward and adjusting the frame to his satisfaction. Ahh it was foreign paper currency that fluttered about the room and slowly made its way to the faux wooden floor at the mongrel's feet.

No takers apparently.

The Elite's already fixed gaze had taken in the darkly clad masked men situated about the small room and Katze's No. 1 strategically positioned at the closed door, baring any hurried attempt at exit.

Raoul approved, though a golden brow quirked in annoyance at the device he held.

Jupiter be praised but he still could not find the node that allowed for sound on the remote. It was entirely too vexing, when the cameras focused on the club's main floor, the bar, the kitchen, the back alley and sundry other spaces had full audio – peculiar.

Pale lips lifted at their corners, a new thought having struck. "You clever, clever little bastard," the Blondie chuckled.

The lack of sound was intentional. It was entirely in character for the mongrel, not to mention technical skill set to subvert the system for privacy; a warped sense of honor, even.

Raoul pursed his lips. There was a secondary possibility. A great deal more could be garnered from quiet observation, particularly of the salons, where the words spoken would oft times be repetitive, trite. Words by their very nature were subjective and undoubtedly the dialogue would have been boring. This was the point, the Elite concluded. Here Katze would only be looking for danger to his stable, nothing more.

Fascinating, in fact it was more than fascinating to watch the little creature in his milieu and the almost feline quality presented as he flung the flailing blood spattered man back down into the chaise while passing him and moved gracefully to the body, lying prone.

Expressionless, it was the only word it. That pale, handsome countenance remained expressionless, taking in the full measure of the violence, the gore and the glistening stream of gut below her sternum, exposed for all to see.

It was those frightened sightless eyes that seemed to draw the Black Market dealer most. With infinite care he bent over the body and adjusted her hair about the still beautiful face, caressing the lukewarm skin of her cheek, dabbing lightly with his sleeve at a bloody smudge that marred her cheek.

Gently he closed her lids and stood erect murmuring something only those within the room were privy to. It seems to have caught the drugged patron's attention however as he got on his knees and began to plead in abject terror with the mongrel's approach.

"Bit late to plead now, dear boy, the deed is done." Raoul tut tuted. No dignity at all, but then, what could one expect from their kind.

A visceral charge raced through Raoul's own veins as he noted the color returning to Katze's cheeks and those formerly opaque citrine eyes begin to glow with a feral gleam.

The redhead had made a decision. He was growing easier to read.

The Elite recognized the set of the stubborn chin, the wide stance and the ubiquitous smoke reached for within the pocket of his trousers. Oh he had decided alright, but what?

Katze beckoned the subject under observation and casually lit his smoke. The man in question stood on shaky legs, wiping his sweating brow and cautiously approached the mongrel.

Predatory green eyes grew bright in anticipation of the coming floor show. The surprisingly swift movement of the mongrel as he brought the man to his knees once more and the grace with which those long tapered fingers latching on to the patron's neck was a dance in and of itself.

Katze whispered something within the man's ear causing him to extend his sweating palm. The patron grimaced as the lit smoke was stubbed out and burnt his flesh.

Raoul chided himself for being moderately aroused by the sight.

He was screaming now as Donovan's back blocked the sight of the camera. The Elite growled in genuine annoyance and almost as if heard the bodyguard moved back out of frame, revealing a blood spattered face and eyes reminiscent of the blank terror in the girl's eyes.

Katze did not bother to close his, merely releasing the body to the floor and flicked his bloody hand sending a curvilinear spatters to the walls. Donovan handed him a towel. They watched the cleaning crew retrieve the body, placing it next to the girl and rolled them both in dark cloth for disposal.

Watching as both Katze and Donovan went over the room with a fine tooth comb, Raoul paid attention the body language of both men as they made note of anomalous items for removal.

They were efficient. The Elite looked at the time stamp below the display. Exactly seven minutes as a new set of three came in, one of which was the Kato individual and began the arduous task of scrubbing down what remained. Raoul hadn't even noticed when both bodies had been placed in the box, along with the strewn cash, the clothing and incidentals of the former client in question.

Seven minutes; would that his surgical team showed such acumen.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Katze gazed up the stairwell that led to his quarters and rubbed tired eyes. His face felt sticky. The scent of coppery blood seemed to be everywhere on him, dogging his steps.

He would need another shower.

He could hear the driving beat of the club below and laughter, oblivious laughter to the death that surrounded them, but then, death was the way of Ceres. Two more made no difference, except with perspective and having done the deed yourself willingly and or by attrition.

His hand began to shake as it took the banister. It was wearing off already and though not painful, it was just a matter of time before he felt the additional damage done while enraged. He checked his mobile com affixed to his belt.

Still eight hours before the Auction and with luck he could get a few hours of sleep, at least that had gone right.

Climbing slowly Katze planned the following day, looking for items overlooked, possible unaccounted for dangers – nothing stood out. Reaching the blank wall that shielded his private domain, he automatically keyed the numbers for entry.

The code would be changed tomorrow. Fuck but he didn't need Raoul making little visits uninvited. It pained him just how much he enjoyed the Elite. The Blondie was nothing if not quixotic and unfortunately, the very top of the food chain, where he held no power, unlike Midas.

He wasn't Riki and did not wish to play with fire, only ashes would be left of what remained of his soul at this rate, with luck the Elite's interest would soon peak and he would move on, saving them both from the inevitable fall.

Katze blinked…Admon's warning about an imagined fall from Grace. He shook his head and entered, closing the port behind him, reassured as the lock re-engaged and he slid down the cool, smooth surface.

Jupiter but he abhorred complications, he laughed softly to himself, wiping the unnoticed tears that had been streaming down his face. It wasn't blood, it had been tears. He regarded his fingers in shock, bringing his knees up and began to rock in silent pain.

He was safe now, here away from the others. No one would see. No one would know. He was Katze of Ceres, king of all he surveyed, untouchable amongst the mongrel horde.

"Stupid little bitch…don't keep it, if you're not gonna use it," Katze continued to rock with closed eyes unable to stop the floodgates that had opened…"Stupid little bitch…stupid, stupid, little bitch…"

Feather light was the touch of warm hands that touched his bowed shoulders and smoothly glided down his arms, clasping his hands.

Katze recoiled from the unexpected touch and blinked away tears in horror as he wiped his nose upon a bloody sleeve.

"Now look what you've done." Raoul said reproachfully, yanking him upright with his good arm. "You're an absolute mess, little mongrel. Come with me."

The redhead continued to blink in shock as he was hauled through the bedroom once more. "I'm not in the mood, Sir Am."

Raoul turned abruptly and pushed him onto the foot of the bed, glaring at him down a long patrician nose. "Neither am I, you egotistical little shit."

Katze blinked in open consternation at the tone and the words spoken.

"Just look at the state of you and you _dare_ to call yourself their leader?" Raoul barked in a derisive tone. "Get in the shower and clean yourself up this instant."

He wasn't up to the fight evident in those sparkling, challenging green eyes and so, as always he did what he was told, carelessly toeing off shoes, discarding clothing and wishing by all that was merciful that he would drown beneath the pulsing heat.

Death did not come in the steamy room, but silence did as he leaned his forehead against the tiled wall and allowed the tears to continue with some semblance of privacy amidst the running cold stream.

Katze hadn't really noticed when the water became cool, then lukewarm and then hot as stiff muscles thanked their maker and a warm hard body rested against his silently for a moment.

The redhead sighed, giving up all pretense of caring about what would come next. So the fucker had a thing for showers. With luck it would be quick, but it wasn't.

Strong fingers massaged the tense muscles of his back, causing the mongrel to release a pent up sigh as they wended their way to the base of his spine. Warm breath teased the nap of his neck gently. Katze stilled as those dexterous fingers released him and the scent of his favourite soap was poured into large palms and carefully massaged into his scalp.

Katze turned in the loose embrace as suds burnt his open eyes and he looked up into the stoically handsome face while his temples were kneaded as if in afterthought.

Raoul damp mane was tossed indignantly as he glared back but continued.

"I told you, you are a mess."

The redhead began to chuckle. "Use your nails. I like the feel of nails, Sir Am."

An undignified snort, punctuated the request while Raoul wondered briefly, who had done this for the mongrel in the past. Progress was being made. He would give the mongrel that.

Those two beats had not occurred once this night in using his honorific.

**Author's Note**

Happy Holidays!

**ElegantPaws**


	17. Chapter 16

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature – Mature Content

Parts: **WIP** – **16** of 25

Reviews are fuel.

This dedication is to **No-Chick** the brains behind – _**Adventures in Babysitting**_. One of the most delightfully inventive takes on Roy, Maes and Friends as teens. The dialogue is razor sharp, hilariously funny and yet, there are moments between the would be teen lovers (Maes/Roy) that make you wonder where in hell is the ice water? Their personal asides are priceless. It is a charmingly told tale well worth your time, if only for the poignant moments of young Edward Elric making Roy's life a living hell lol. Genius!

**Chapter 16** of 25 – **The Rules of Attraction** (Post OVA)

The feel of cold tile against his back sent shivers down the dealer's spine. Katze almost purred as their tongues danced for supremacy and he staked his claim of Raoul's lips.

So soft, so yielding and such a startling contrast to the hot well muscled chest that pressed against his, radiating warmth well beyond that of the relentless pinpoint massage of pressurized water streaming from the shower upon their heads.

Katze had always wondered about this art, the art of kissing. It was strangely intimate, in fact, more intimate than he had previously imagined. No wonder some within the stable utterly refused to kiss the clientele. His lids fluttered open briefly, not much to see really.

He palmed Raoul's rear. So much more, he decided, to feel when they remained closed to irrelevancies outside the moment of touch, and the fragrant eddies of warm clean skin beneath his roaming finger tips.

This time he did purr as their lips parted and his eyes automatically went reproachfully to Raoul's panting mouth; what right had it to breathe? That tongue was still in there somewhere and they had not yet declared a truce. He tipped up on his toes and angled his head, determined to reclaim that welcoming wetness.

Raoul's warm chuckle reverberated in the stall as he lowered his head, accommodating the unspoken demand and the heated reproving gaze.

Thus far, the mongrel showed definite personal preferences for specific parts of his anatomy while kissing. Not surprisingly, Raoul thought in a self-satisfied way, the list of his anatomical merits appeared to be growing.

It was pleasant this physical inventory and surprisingly gentle, almost tentative at first, as if expecting a rebuff. Always, he returned to the mouth, tasting to his fill. Apparently, the chocolate inducement of their previous encounter had not been the only enticement.

Katze enjoyed kissing. This was decidedly pleasing.

He drank of Raoul's mouth, drowning slowly in warmth, drowning with each touch of tongue's tip and the softness of that usually vicious mouth that had finally found its true calling. Jupiter but he did this well too. Oh sure, he had to bend a bit, but still. Long sinuous legs did find a temporary solution to the height discrepancy.

The dealer gritted his teeth and raised his arms, unhappily relinquishing his grasp of a delightfully formed buttock. Now that he had a good grip on the Elite, sharp pain to his shoulder not withstanding, he raised himself just that little bit more without relinquishing the Blondie's mouth. Not quite perfect, but it did even things up a bit.

Raoul smirked against his lips and eased back, taking things literally into his hands. Two butt pegs to be exact. Katze winced as he was pinned firmly and hoisted while those long fingers guided his thighs up over Raoul's lean waist in an open caress. Katze sighed with contentment and locked his ankles behind Raoul's back; much less strain on his arm's socket. Yes even better. Now they could get down to some serious business.

Okay so Raoul's dick was at it again with the nudging as was his and it didn't help that the blasted Elite was running those hot mesmerizing fingertips up and down his sides, only stopping on occasion to add further fire to his loins with those equally sinful thumbs of his, that teased his nipples with barely there circles and the occasional wicked pinch that went straight to his cock. He was good alright and all to prepare the mongrel for entry once more.

Breaking the kiss, Katze looked levelly for the first time into sea green eyes that looked very content but questioningly at his lips, again with the nudging and the querulous brow.

Katze gathered the long sodden mane over one broad shoulder and studied it; it curled when wet. He smiled with the new discovery, raising his gaze to those jewel toned eyes.

"If that's what you want," he took a deep breath, expecting the worst, "can I just suck you off this time? I promise you'll like it."

Raoul's gaze shifted from his lips. An already slippery finger clinically rimmed then penetrated the mongrel causing him to hiss, his abdomen tightening at the unexpected intrusion.

"I asked, you nicely, Sir Am, cause I know you don't get this stuff, but to put it bluntly, your lots not exactly easy to accommodate and I'm kinda sore! You try being me, for a change."

The Elite pursed his lips in thought and watched the angry glow in Katze's eyes with interest. "I will admit being rather forceful with you earlier, but you seemed no worse for wear and appeared quite content with my attentions."

Katze blinked away droplets of water and sighed. "I know. I wanted it too and it felt good, but you know…" the dealer shrugged attempting a brave smile and tried to lower his legs to no avail. Those steel bands called arms were not giving way.

He looked at the Elite from the side. Raoul didn't actually look pissed, more contemplative.

"I'm not lying, if that is what you're trying to work out. It's not 'cause I don't…well…" Katze's mouth slammed shut. "Never mind, let me just do you and get this over with. It's what you want, right?"

The Elite's eyes narrowed dangerously, pale lids lowering further to the rather prominent and attentive length of manhood twitching against his own stomach, that was not his own.

"But not what you want, of course?" Raoul added off handedly.

With as much diplomacy as he could muster, the mongrel lowered his arms from around Raoul's neck, expectantly. Nothing happened, just the blank stare. It was like looking at a bloody automaton when they got like this.

Raoul was obviously attempting to work out some shit or other, but at least he hadn't dropped him. In fact, the Elite had hardly moved at all. Just stood there like a freakin' statue, entirely wordlessly, while the water pelted his back.

Katze tried again "Okay, maybe I wasn't clear in what I am asking, Sir Am. In order to do you, I need to get on my knees. You're gonna have to let me down, Sir Am, if that is okay?"

Raoul did not budge, instead selecting to turn of the lever with his current parcel in arms and stepped out of the shower stall.

"Sir Am, did you hear me?"

Ignoring the soft, tremulous whisper, Raoul Am, Chief Scientist of Tanagura decided to do a proper and complete inspection of the well equipped room. "Surely you have something to alleviate this manner of discomfort in your line of business?"

Katze grabbed his own forehead in disbelief. "Oh God, Raoul…no. Please, just come in my mouth. I'm tired and then you can leave."

The dealer sighed, placing his arms once more around the stubborn neck. Why was Raoul looking at him quizzically all of a sudden? Had he said something wrong?

"Left drawer second shelf, if you must, Sir Am." The quizzical expression shifted, green eyes no longer sparkled but now looked determined as one hand left a possessively cupped buttock.

The Elite actually smiled, holding up the tube for verification.

"Fine, you found it, Sir Am. Can you let me down now, please, so I can use it?"

Raoul appeared to have gone deaf as he read the instructions, lifting it away from the mongrel's fingers. It was evident he found it suspect.

"They cannot be serious about this application? Who authorized this? There are enough drugs here to fell a slavering beast! No, I won't have it. You will do without. I have not torn you. I must admit a certain level of exuberance, but this will be altered as to need in future."

Katze glared at Raoul's truly flawless profile. He was impossible and had obviously developed selective hearing in the last minute or so.

The dealer shook his head and tried glaring at the furrowed brow of the handsome recalcitrant who had dismissively discarded the medication and returned his palm to the cooling buttock.

Determined, Katze tried again, this time more slowly now that he had the Elite's full attention.

"Sir Am, if you let me put that crap on, you can get to piston my ass and this night is done. I have to pick you up in less than"…Katze looked over Raoul's shoulder to the chronometer above the shelving with growing desperation, "barely eight hours."

Raoul waggled a finger in censure, tapping Katze's nose. "Tone, Katze…tone. I do not like the tone. Correct it."

He did let him down however and threw a towel at the mongrel. "Dry me, if you please?"

An auburn brow arched in irritation above narrowed cognac eyes as the redhead set to work.

The job finished, Katze did not bother to retrieve another but used the same to dry himself, while Raoul sauntered out and lazily inspected his closet for something suitable.

With an aggravated sigh the mongrel wrapped the towel about his waist and territorially stepped in front of the Elite, tapping something out of Raoul's line of sight.

The Elite noted the well ordered closet assumed a quietly mechanical hush and its contents began to move forward and out of sight into a void that consisted of nothing more that seeming light prisms. It was an optical illusion of course, he knew. The Blondie did, however, toy with correcting the clear breach in protocol but chose to glower instead at the surprisingly proportionately broad shoulders in front of him. They still glowed with residual moisture dripping from the mongrel's hair.

Self consciously Raoul licked his lips, well pleased for the darkness that hid his want. It would not serve him to lend any immediate thought as to why he was so drawn to this imperfect specimen.

The mechanism stopped and Raoul watched as Katze reached for what could only be a vestment sac, whose seams gave way by simple touch. It revealed a dark maroon robe of exquisite quality and obvious alien design by the look of the ornamentation upon its sleeves.

Grudgingly, carefully Katze turned to face what he knew would be an accusing stare. "If you please, Sir Am, try this. I think you will find it fits, almost perfectly. It's more for someone roughly your height."

The redhead observed the Elite's back stiffen and the darkening of those emerald eyes that scanned the material repeatedly, while large hands clenched tightly.

Katze's level gaze never left Raoul's as he pressed it against a broad chest. "As you have already guessed, it was to have been a gift to Admon, Sir Am. I will get him something else. Consider it yours."

The robe was taken and flung to the carpet without a word. Katze had to admit, it really hadn't been necessary to state the obvious, but there was a part of him that sniggered; any victory however small was still a victory.

"I thought as much. It was just an offer, Sir Am. No offense intended."

"Offense taken, little mongrel. I would strongly advise you never to make that manner of comparison again."

Gracefully Katze bent and retrieved the robe, placing the soft material over a chair for later redress and took a deep breath. No point arguing about a matter of three or four inches. He flicked the towel from about his waist angrily to the ground.

"Yes, Sir Am."

No point heading for the closet, not as if he was going to have a reason to put anything on.

He threw himself on the bed, face first. No fucking gymnastics this time, the starchy feel of dried cum on his sheets just exacerbating his irritability at the moment.

The bed sank beneath him almost immediately and automatically Katze eased up onto his knees, stuffing a pillow beneath him with a mumbled curse and folded his arms beneath his head in preparation.

Raoul would have to take it as presented, if he wanted it that bad.

Internally Katze vowed not to move or utter a sound of encouragement. He wasn't in the mood damn it! This was gonna hurt and the bastard wouldn't even allow him the small narcotizing comfort with his self-righteous bullshit, as if he cared.

They were all so fuckin' selfish, he thought as a damp mane tickled his ear and long arms bent just above his shoulders while Raoul leaned forward to whisper in his ear. Where was that ever lovin' pushy cock of his?

"What in Jupiter's name are you doing, Katze? You look preposterous. Sit up."

Katze blinked and abruptly turned to meet bright eyes that wondered down the Elite's own torso to his sex.

"Well, what do you suggest we do about, my little issue?"

"There's nothin' little about your 'issue', Sir Am."

Raoul's eyes danced as they watched the way the weary mongrel turned, plumped his own pillows in irritation and retrieved a smoke – probably strategizing. He always appeared to be strategizing, when the solution was quite obvious.

**~~~BMR~~~**

The Elite pointed at the robe across the room disdainfully. "That was being given to the _whore_, for what exactly? Services rendered?"

"More like services interruptus, Sir Am. Not really sure anymore, just thought such an aesthetic creature would like it." Katze shrugged, their eyes meeting in the ambient light of the pale moons glow. "Why do you ask, if I might be so bold?"

The twins were doing their usual dance above the skylight casting their silvered wrath-like shadows across the coverlet and the bedding's occupants.

"Just curious," the Elite offered noncommittally adjusting his back. It was amusing watching Raoul try to maintain that stately poise butt naked, managing remarkably well under the circumstances. Once a Blondie, always a Blondie.

Katze sniggered at the irony and reached over the Blondie to the other bedside table. "Do you mind?"

It wasn't for want of trying as a hand stopped his progress. "Just a warning Katze. Should you pull some implement that is not to my liking from that drawer, there will be repercussions."

"Seriously…" the mongrel shook his head. "Try trusting me, Sir Am. I have an alternative that might please you to no end and heighten the experience. It will give you something to focus on while I go down on you."

Katze retrieved and offered the box matter-of-factly for inspection. "You get to be the first, post R&D to try it."

Raoul took it, his fair brows furrowing with suspicion as he opened the little box that contained two tiny discs meant to adhere to skin. "What do they do?"

"What don't they do more like," Katze smirked, easing himself over the Elite's lap sinuously with downcast eyes. "Just trust, Sir Am. You'll like the dual sensation, if I read you right."

"Meaning?"

"You'll feel what I feel and vice versa, forbidden territory for an Elite."

Emerald green eyes widened briefly. "What you are implying is totally illegal. This has been banned by _my_ medical council."

Katze grinned, smoothing long fingers over a taut chest cavity and down long powerful arms with infinite care, enjoying the involuntary shiver it caused the Elite. He retrieved the small box and its contents from the outstretched palm and kissed it, as if in afterthought, studying the pads of the Blondie's fingers.

"With all due respect, Sir Am, the Black Market doesn't know or care from banned. You of all people should know that?" Katze licked Raoul's index finger suggestively with a wan smile.

Raoul moaned softly, expelling a long breath as Katze lowered his head to Raoul's tense jaw line, enjoying the feel and scent of a smooth warm cheek against his.

"We are always seeking new avenues of profitability. This one has promise." He whispered into the Elite's ear teasingly nipping the velvet soft lobe between his teeth. The dealer kissed away what he hoped was a proper sting. "It feels good and is perfectly safe for humanoids," he murmured against porcelain skin, kissing a wet path down the Elite's neck.

Raoul groaned in ecstasy as soft lips captured a nipple and lathed it exquisitely and then the other and back again, cutting a path straight to his groin, who wanted its turn.

He'd lost track of the box. It really didn't seem that important now as he drifted but for the nagging impulse to dominate this little game while sliding down onto the silken sheets allowing the mongrel some semblance of control for the moment.

Raoul watched with glazed eyes the near serpentine movement of the pale body atop his and the pervading warmth engendered in each touch of skin.

Blissful.

Logic, he would handle this with logic. He could and would compartmentalize with the best of them, though his ear still stung. There would be repercussions for that unsanctioned nip…later. Apparently his earlobes had been added to the mongrel's tasting repertoire.

No, he would not be outdone by a mere mongrel clearly determined to have his way.

This manner of device would not be used to tap into his cerebral cortex in order to heightening his hormone receptors. It was simply not done, particularly to an Amoian Elite; Pets possibly, never a Blondie. This was forbidden by Jupiter itself.

Or so he thought from a hazy distance as still damp auburn hair tickled his torso in retreat and those damn fingers, those beautiful mesmerizing fingers, stroked and petted their way to his already open thighs.

He gazed at the pale digits. What would they feel like inside? What would _he_ feel like inside? The creature really was grace and sensuality in his movements, what more could those strong lean hips do with the right impetus to thrust unmercifully?

Raoul sighed languorously as soft wet kisses teased his cock to full wakefulness and a dexterous tongue coiled around his girth and stroked. Those fingers moved then as the redhead settled between wide spread legs and grazed his inner thighs, repeatedly with blunt nails. Odd, the palm that caressed his balls felt inordinately warm, sending pleasurable shimmers of heat, he had not felt before. The Blondie stretched like an overgrown feline, surrendering to the unexpected and damn near intoxicating feel of Katze's surprisingly skilled ministrations.

He must have done this before. Practice did make perfect. He banished the thought.

The suction of his mouth and the reverberating purr coming from the mongrel's chest as he lapped and toyed, brought brighter hues of light beneath the Elite's tight closed lids. This was mind numbing bliss. Raoul's head swam with sensations, his muscles taut with need for release.

Slick and warm was the haven of that heavenly mouth, even more so than the first time the mongrel had done this. There was something new here. Something warm, dark and forbidden that Raoul chased lazily in his mind, as wet lips cosseted his twitching, distended member and continued to sup.

Where was the source of this all encompassing, perhaps even narcotizing need for conquest? Raoul allowed the alien presence out of curiosity as Katze's mouth closed over the head of his shaft and began sucking for dear life. His spine tingled with each moist stroke and warm ragged breath.

It was an emotion. Conflicted and yet predatory in nature. It was not his own.

Raoul opened lust dazed eyes and regarded the redhead from that strange preternatural distance, finally recognizing the source of conflicting emotions. Katze was lost in his own world, though amber eyes glistened back up at him with knowing as an unspoken question was quickly shuttered by closed lids.

The moons light captured the rapidly bobbing head and the shadowed presence of an arm, secreted between the mongrel's own legs as he strove for his own release, not by choice but default.

Those eyes did not close soon enough. For in that brief moment Raoul understood what could never be asked. It was all so clear now why Katze had wanted Admon. The Blondie tried to focus through the warm, pulsing haze of his mind while continuing to writhe in hedonistic bliss, smoothing the damp hairs of the mongrel's forehead with feather light touches of encouragement.

Admon was substitute, not the intended focus of the mongrel's lust after all. He was and it was old. Much older than this moment, much older than a few days before, perhaps even older than the moment he himself had surrendered to that one chaste kiss upon Katze's sick bed.

Clarity was a bitch.

Raoul stilled, closing strong thighs around the mongrel in a painful squeeze of his shoulders. It was almost comical really as those exotically tilted eye looked up into his with surprise.

Rather strong hands tried to pry immovable thighs while the Elite's twitching length remained between wet, greedy lips. Katze gave a last lingering swipe of tongue to the weeping head of his capture.

The Elite's vision narrowed, his loins and anus constricting in pleasure at the sight of his own viscous need tethering them in intimacy upon the mongrel's tongue. Katze head rose in question as well muscled thighs began to relax. They stared at each other silently, a quiet challenge of dominance.

"Come here, Katze." Raoul beckoned in a lazy rasp, his limbs had become decidedly heavy.

The mongrel's brows knitted briefly and he cleared his throat nervously. "Why, something wrong?"

A quietly lazy growl of warning echoed within the still bedroom. It did have the desired effect, however. The still querulous looks he was getting as the mongrel slid up between his legs, amused. Raoul shivered in pleasure as hot damp skin met his in an open embrace and the heat of Katze's own manhood pressed insistently against his.

He shifted beneath the mongrel, eliciting another tortured groan from the dealer's throat and slid hot hands down the redhead's damp back, cupping his rear, lifting his groin to sustain the delicious friction.

Katze responded. He knew he would, though his eyes remained firmly closed. Raoul's body was jogged as the dealer grunted and thrust mindlessly, warm breath fanning the Elite's neck, while Katze murmuring soft profanities of need.

"Kiss me. You _seem_ to enjoy that as well."

Katze grimaced as he raised himself on both arms and looked down into that hooded, still secretively challenging gaze.

God, he could come just looking at the fucker, he was so beautiful. What he wouldn't give to be buried deep in the son-of-a-bitch and ride him to completion until he screamed his name in surrender. He closed his eyes, banishing the wish and lowered his head, taking dry panting lips.

Long fingers managed to find their way from his rear now that the pace had been set and they moved in unison, determined and forceful in their respective goal.

Their lips met in a fiery kiss, no longer stayed like the one received so long ago, when he had been in serious pain and the scent and flutter of a soft, clean mane had billowed, giving privacy to the unforeseen, to the forbidden.

Katze blinked, allowing the Elite's tongue to vanquish his own temporarily as he searched for the source of this thought. It had faded as soon as it had come. Just imaginings, he groaned into the wet, sacred warmth beneath his mouth, knowing full well Raoul's avarice was fuelled by his own taste upon the mongrel's lips.

Vain to the end, the dealer mused distractedly as the Elite's strong frame shifted beneath him subtly, depriving him of his sexual twin. He was forced lower between the Blondie's straining legs, just below the apex of his sex, that pert, now slick rear, wickedly close.

It was Katze's turn to growl unintentionally as he reared up and glared at the male beneath him before remembering his place. The man was determined on this night to drive him this side of insane. It was cruel this, just plain cruel to want what you could not have.

The glare was met in kind, causing the mongrel's auburn brows to lift in unison, his own cock fully aware of what was being requested silently by long legs that coiled about his midsection and the hand that gripped his cock.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon lay coiled upon his bed, panting softly to himself, stroking his member rhythmically to the tune playing on the box. An ancient tune, one his Master had always preferred hearing before rest. No audience now, just the silence and quiet of his room, the small unremarkable space he now called home.

His breath caught as he drew out the pleasure of it, though his cheeks were stained with drying tears. It felt good, but it was not the same. No warmth, no scent, no breath to steal his in surrender, no tightly coiled muscles atop his.

It ticked and purred as it wound down creating a new and eerie tune as his semen arced and he sagged in completion. How he wished it had been Katze pounding his flesh, making use of him in the time honored way. It would have given him tremendous pleasure to sate the mongrel's hidden desire and awaken others as yet untrammeled by anyone.

He regarded his wet hand and his spent member indifferently.

Within the dark, his ruby eyes sparkled as his aura rose about him in annoyance. Raoul had no idea, no idea at all who he was dealing with and that would be a benefit. His gaze drifted back to the little box, a pale imitation to be sure. It contained no prize unlike the ancient relic.

He knew where to find it now. True, he had attempted to, but that Elite was formidable, but not indomitable. Admon sighed, a wan smile curving his lips. He hadn't had time enough to seek its true twin. He would have to be careful, but he would retrieve it.

Admon's eyes darkened in memory. Fortune did smile on him with that comment made flippantly by the sanctimonious Blondie, who had no idea what he held in his study, or in the man currently taking pleasure in his flesh for the first time.

His palms coiled tightly as nails dug into flesh. He would exact vengeance for untold crimes against his beloved, however unrequited.

Still, there was Katze, a poor imitation to be sure, but tethered by nature unbeknownst to even himself. Yes, Admon wanted him and intended to have him, regardless in the meantime. Oh he would have to be cautious, that Elite was dangerous in a different way than his leader. He had abilities, hence the blinding hatred on sight of the Karinese and he was aware of his scent – curious. It repulsed him – intriguing. Few who could detect it resisted. He did, sensing the threat of it to what he truly held dear.

Admon smiled to himself. Raoul, with all his bluster was afraid of him. That made him dangerous. Would he be so giving of his flesh, had he not been?

The box whined quietly down as laughter came from below into the room and the Karinese rested, enjoying the musky scent of his release, making plans for the next time with his new Master.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Sweat burnt the mongrel's eyes as he gritted his teeth and sank fully into the hot, tight channel of Raoul's body for the first time. He did not move preferring to close his eyes and feel, adoring the sensation for what it was and what it meant. Fuck his shoulder was killing him now, but it was worth it as damp trembling thighs rested heavily against him.

Katze could hear Raoul's less than even breathing as he waited for the mongrel to move.

"You okay?" the redhead managed, lifting a trembling hand to gently stroke the Elite's thigh in comfort.

Raoul looked back up at him curiously and then snorted. "If you would get on with it, I would be. At this rate, it will take all night to sate your curiosity."

Katze grinned evilly down at the indomitable male. A warm burst filled his chest briefly as he kissed the naked thigh closest to his lips. "Promises, promises, Sir Am."

He continued to nuzzle the warm skin beneath his lips and for good measure eased back and thrust hard into the slick, scorching warmth that gripped him fiercely.

A soft keen of want came from the Elite's lips as he closed his own eyes tightly and reached up and around the mongrel's neck with powerful arms, his back arching off of the bedding, in a kind of supplication to his fate.

It was enough. It was more than enough, the mongrel thought bending as best he could to reach those lips as he began taking what was rightful his, after all, reverently.

**~~~BMR~~~**

The twin moons arced against the star filled sky as they did every night awaiting the dawn. No different than any other night, casting their shadowy glow now on two glistening bodies. They were deaf to the cries of completion and the two given names spoken aloud in tired whispers. They remained oblivious and distant from the cooling skins and silent caresses while both drifted to sleep with one final chaste kiss.

**Author's Note**

The third longest sensual scene I have ever written *snort* with purpose. I can only hope you enjoyed. Let me know. There is quite a lot that happened here.

Laters…and thank you all for joining me on this journey.

**EP**


	18. Chapter 17

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature – Mature Content

Parts: **WIP** – **17** of 25

Reviews are fuel.

**Chapter 17** of 25 – **The Wheels of Fate** (Post OVA)

Raoul awoke to the quiet clacking of keys beyond the darkened bedroom. His eyes rapidly adjusted to the dim cobalt blue shimmer that seeped through the crack of the door from the outer office. He looked about him suspiciously but found nothing wanting except his clothing, cleaned, ordered and where appropriate folded awaiting its owner on the divan at the foot of the bed.

His acute hearing picked up the familiar reverberations of the mongrel's quiet speech and another all too familiar voice, his bodyguard. Raoul stretched languorously cocking one ear to follow the conversation, monosyllabic as it was. Pale lips curved in a half smile as his eyes cast to the open bathroom door, where a small crouched figure stood in nervous readiness.

"Kato is it?"

The elderly man bowed deeply. Raoul noted it took him a fraction too long to raise his bent form fully to an upright position.

"Would the esteemed guest care to take his bath now, or would he prefer some manner of refreshment first?"

Excellent training, but he would expect nothing less of the mongrel in his little kingdom.

"Tea is preferable, strong and black. You may fetch it now and have Katze bring it through when ready."

"Of course, Sir," Kato inclined his head, obsequiously, "Will there be anything else?"

"No. That will suffice, Kato, run along." Raoul said dismissively, moderately miffed that the conversation continued with barely a pause as the small round figure shuffled off to attend his appointed task, quietly closing the door behind him.

Across the room, the chronometer said three. He had slept for two hours and hadn't even noticed when Katze had arisen. Peculiar, he was by nature a light sleeper.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Sharp eyes flicked in the darkness over the ghostlike mask of the Boss' patrician face as Kato silently left.

To Donovan's discerning gaze Katze looking every bit his street moniker in the pale reflective light of the monitor – _Subzero Scarface_. Nothing more than a predatory wraith whose amber eyes danced across the screen with growing interest as he lit another smoke and inhaled deeply.

"You can stop staring any time now, Donovan. Not up for discussion. Just make sure the limo is ready for his Highness. Don't need the grief of having to explain why a Syndicate vehicle is here at this hour, well before the Auction."

Donovan shook his head, releasing his breath. He missed nothing. There were times he just didn't get the Boss and fuck but he wanted to know, but could not ask in his current mood. "Got it covered. No one would dare."

"In earshot anyway," Katze snorted, looking up briefly for confirmation. "Gimme a day, okay? We'll talk, after the Auction."

The bodyguard cracked his knuckles finally satisfied and nodded. He could wait. "I have your back, even in this. You must have a reason to take such a risk, Boss."

Keen citrine eyes, the coldest shade of sunlight, caste with blue looked up through a haze of smoke. "Damned if I know what it is."

A smile was a rare thing on Donovan's severely handsome face, but it had the ability to light it nonetheless. "Ahh real simple Boss, he's hot."

"Leave. Got things to do."

"Oooooohhh yeah, I just bet you do, Boss Man."

**~~~BMR~~~**

Raoul started at the loud clank as an object was clearly thrown in the outer office connecting with the metallic port that lead to the hallway. Irritating these sudden noises, particularly since he had just managed to settle into the halcyon warmth of the tub and had been quietly contemplating the merits of a light snooze before tea; gratifying bouts of sex apparently made one decidedly indolent.

Absently he wondered where his promised tea had gotten to as he sniffed the pleasantly scented unguents placed to hand for his convenience. He would have words with the little minion, for his own good. So long a wait was unacceptable and why was Katze not dancing attendance?

All far too vexing.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Kato scuttled through the port, his gnarled hands holding the antique silver tea tray so rarely used by the dealer, another acquisition secured based on beauty alone.

Amber eyes scanned the delicate setting and the covered plate before returning his gaze to the screen. "I can see where I stand around here."

The manservant clicked his tongue in censure. "Is it my fault, Mr. Katze that finally, there is someone who merits the extra effort?"

Katze snorted. "Good luck with that. NOTHING pleases them as a matter of course."

Kato ignored his Master and placed the tray on the desk, fussing with the linen and sundry, awaiting his turn to speak with a pinched expression. He had even changed into his formal attire and brushed his few remaining strands of hair – too priceless.

The dealer rolled his eyes and sighed. "Kato, you might as well learn now since it's likely the current guest might make the odd appearance, just don't bother beyond the necessary. Don't even think of using this as an excuse to go on _another_ of your frequent spending sprees."

Kato sniffed and glared at his Boss accusingly.

"Don't look at me in that tone of voice, Kato. You are a thousand credits over for housekeeping this month alone. I won't dare to think how long it took you to polish that shit, just to serve him some tepid tea, which I might add you have never done for me and it's _my_ set."

"You don't drink tea as a rule, Sir." The manservant mumbled unhappily and eyed the broken statuary by the door, still curious as to why Donovan had been laughing as he passed him in the hallway.

I'm not deaf, Kato, and I _don't_ appreciate the reference to pearls before swine."

To his credit, Kato looked suitably chastised and pursed wizened lips, patiently folding his hands before him with a sharp inclination of his balding well coifed head. "My apologies, Mr. Katze but while we are on the topic of the undeserving..."

Katze eyes narrowed, acknowledging the veiled slight but letting it go. The man had been busy tonight, far too busy for one of his age with the cleanup. He would allow it this once. It really wasn't part of his protocol to take care of detritus related to wet work.

"Go on…"

"Admon is proving worrisome and changeable."

In no way mollified by the sudden change of subject or the seriousness of Kato's expression, Katze's gaze grew distant. "Explain changeable?"

"Dangerous. I fear we might have misjudged him."

"How?"

A pensive expression verging on genuine fear entered those dark, worn eyes as he weighed his words.

"We, no _I_ have misjudged his true nature. He is more than he appears and capable of…" the old man instinctively clenched his hand against his chest and gulped audibly. "I believe he might be capable of physically harming another, perhaps even a client. He has a vindictive nature, shrouded in politesse."

Katze stood abruptly, his long citrine robe flowing behind him as he rounded the desk and grasped Kato's shoulders, willing him to look up. "Did he threaten you? Tell me the truth. I won't have him threatening you, Kato."

A bemused expression entered those tired, weary eyes. "Not in so many words, but I fear him, if truth be told. I fear for you, Mr. Katze and what most do not realize about you and your true nature.

The dealer lowered his head, grasping the flaccid chin and raised it gently. "Don't worry about me, okay? I can deal with anything."

"He may…may…attempt to harm you in some way. Admon has an agenda."

Amber eyes softened briefly. "I know. Let's make it work for us; enemies closer and all that?"

Kato looked up into discerning amber that quickly changed upon observation back to cold, unreadable citrine, shutting out his attendant.

"But you are my charge, Mister Katze. I must protect you, always."

Katze inclined his head toward the tray. "It's gonna be freezing cold by the time he gets it. Go do your thing. God knows, you didn't get all spiffed up for me. No point wasting it. I need to finish up here anyway."

The manservant coughed delicately. "Actually, if you don't mind, Sir Am particularly requested that you bring it through."

"Did he now?" Katze eyes narrowed.

"Yes, he was quite clear on that point. I will see to the broken statue when more convenient."

Almost imperceptibly, Katze squared his broad shoulders amazed at how truly fleet of foot Kato could be as he made himself scarce, leaving him alone to attend the Blondie.

**~~~BMR~~~**

He could hear the water lapping gently in the bathtub as he re-entered the bedroom proper with the hot tray.

"About damn time too, simply horrendous manners, Katze. Would you have dared to do this to your precious Iason, oh forgive me, your Excellency?"

"Yeah but I wasn't being fucked by him, was I? I still have a business to run, Sir Am."

Raoul examined the tip of his wet mane in earnest, his jaw line growing tense as his lips thinned in preparation to retort.

Katze watched the transformation, unsure of what to make of the protracted silence. By now the Elite usually struck with a vengeance, either verbally or physically. He almost preferred that to this stalemate.

He entered the room cautiously, placing the tray on the long vanity and examined the offering. "Kato seems to have gone all out. If I remember correctly you take it black and well steeped?"

Emerald eyes glistened in the warm amber light, taking in the unfamiliar robe with a good deal of prurient delight, enjoying how the filmy material caressed the lean, well muscled body that had given him such pleasure.

Katze turned in the uncomfortable silence with the steaming cup and carefully approached the silent Elite.

"Cookie?"

Raoul's brows furrowed briefly. "No, just the tea…please…"

It was Katze's turn to look uncomfortable with addition of 'please', however delayed.

Raoul was far too silent and watchful as he bent traditionally before him as though he were his Master and handed him the saucer and cup without meeting the flat expression in jewel toned eyes.

Their fingers touched briefly, prompting a jolt within the mongrel's being and words he never thought himself capable of came readily. "For what it's worth, Sir Am, thank you for a pleasant evening, and your company."

Raoul sipped indifferently and adjusted his head against the tile. "Pleasant was it? I distinctly remember a mongrel returning from his duties looking pitiful and having to take him to task for his attitude."

The redhead looked up beneath his lashes with a smirk. "Funny, I distinctly remember an Elite being fucked to within an inch of his spoilt life and screaming that mongrel's name in ecstasy. Never knew you knew those kinds of words, Sir Am. You've been keeping bad company. Jupiter would never approve."

Emerald eyes glared over the rim of the porcelain cup. "You would be amazed what I do know, Katze of Ceres."

"Truce?"

"Détente, I should think. The evening was acceptable."

"Same difference," Katze chuckled, prepared to rise.

"Stay."

The redhead sighed. "My knees hurt. My arm is killing me and I'm tired, Raoul."

This would be the third time Katze had used his given name without thinking. It wasn't offensive in the least. He hadn't even found it offensive as he stilled above him in the heat of passion, raw need evident in the final thrust as he came deep within his body, collapsing in fulfillment.

"Then join me. The therapeutic properties of heated water cannot be overlooked. It will ease your overworked muscles."

Katze nodded and disrobed self-consciously, stepping into the tub at the opposite end. He curled his limbs tightly, avoiding contact with the decadently prone Elite, intentionally ignoring his bobbing member as he looked to the star filled sky beyond the window.

"I won't bite…unless you want me to. Relax…Katze."

A wan smile touched the mongrel's lips as he gratefully stretched aching limbs, ignoring the ever present heat, not of water but of long limbs that caressed his own beneath the water's surface.

He sighed aloud and closed his eyes. "Your chauffeur is here."

Raoul snorted. "And?"

"Just saying…"

"You do that quite a lot, even in sleep."

Katze chuckled softly and flexed his limbs, growing indolently comfortable, enjoying the soft resonance of Raoul's voice and companionship.

"You're beautiful when you come."

"And this surprises you?" Raoul retorted off-handedly, placing his cup on the soft bath mat. "I am nothing if not perfect, under all circumstance."

A rare thing is laughter from one schooled in silence, schooled in control of emotions not easily given or allowed, but when it came there was unsurpassed joy in its genuineness, in its infectious warmth.

"Smug fuck aren't you, Sir Am?"

Oh he wanted to be offended at the liberty of the statement. In the end, he could not be as he observed the calm lines of that perfectly imperfect face, finally relaxed, finally comfortable in his presence.

"As to be expected, Katze of Ceres," Raoul purred languidly. "Now, tell me about Admon."

Katze opened a suspicious golden eye to glare at the Elite, making a mess of the shampoo suds. There was no dignity in a face full of suds. The redhead eased his lithe frame up and made his way to the opposing corner of the tub, glowering at the soap laced dark golden mane, before lowering himself behind the Elite and replacing his hands in the thankless task.

Strong hands came about Katze's thighs easing them down and around Raoul's back in silent acceptance.

"How did you acquire that self possessed he-bitch with the talented mouth?"

The dealer sighed while kneading the slick, silken mass between his fingers. "Why?"

"Just answer the question."

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon bathed and hurriedly dressed with meticulous care. He was leaving, that self-possessed Blondie and he intended to encounter him, if only to put right their understanding. Raoul's instinctive distrust and jealousy could get in the way. Perhaps if he could finally make that connection, engender memories of the Master, he could sate the potential backlash.

Years of observation of their kind had taught him that despite the superfluous frippery of their race, they were hard task masters with a higher purpose, beholden to their all mighty god, Jupiter, for their existence and continuity.

They too were minions but of an aggrandized calling, bound and determined to succeed beyond their commercial and scientific ventures in pursuit of perfection.

Although supercilious to a fault and intellectually superior to most other humanoids, some still bore traces of their humble antecedence. It was a dangerous combination, emotionality and intellect in equal measure.

Raoul Am was one such and he had an axe to grind with the Karinese.

**~~~BMR~~~**

The flat of Katze's palm smoothed the tunic with self-satisfied pride before picking up pristine white gloves to hand to the Elite, completing his habille. Even this, Raoul would not make easy as he peered down imperiously at the smaller male with expectancy and extended a long elegant hand to be gloved.

Katze suppressed a chuckle and took Raoul's thumb between his own and index, smoothing the light material over each digit, checking for snugness before repeating the procedure on the other hand with infinite grace.

"Perfect," he murmured and moved toward the door, opening it quietly for the Elite's departure.

Raoul simple stood, flexing his fingers for fit, finding no fault. "Acceptable."

There was a protracted pause however as he waited for Katze to acknowledge his presence. The dealer slowly looked to the door as if prompting his exit instead. "Yes, Sir Am?"

"You aren't dressed."

Katze looked down at the robe he wore, genuinely perplexed by the statement. "I don't need to be dressed to see you out, Sir Am. I intend to get at least two hours sleep before fetching you for the Auction." He shrugged. "No point dressing twice."

Raoul nodded, pursing his lips and adjusted his sleeves with a little too much vigor.

"If memory serves you mentioned a pressing need to speak with Admon? I would think it unseemly to be so casually attired; might give the wrong impression as to your intentions."

Katze's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I have no interest in fucking him, just to be clear, Sir Am. He and I merely need to set some ground rules, if he is to remain in this stable."

Raoul inclined his head, preening beneath the evident lust in no way hidden by those pale amber eyes giving him the once over.

"I already have what I want, Sir Am. Your concern has been noted."

The Blondie stiffened at the tacit implication of the statement. Katze was getting above himself again.

"Careful Katze, my tolerance has limits. Be assured, I have no interest in your business dealings. This is merely a warning concerning etiquette and the correct protocol when dealing with those who serve, nothing more."

Katze inclined his own head, widening the open port for emphasis. "And for this I thank you, Sir Am and bow to your greater understanding in these matters. I'll take it under advisement."

Green eyes became glacial at the backhanded retort. He had been checkmated - _again_.

Emerald was never meant to be the color of burning embers well set in a flawless visage, Katze thought, gripping Raoul's gloved wrists defensively as he was backed into the door and pinned effortlessly.

That hard resilient form pressed against his threateningly as Raoul lowered his head and barely whispered against his cheek.

"Get dressed now, Katze, and just to be clear, that was _not_ a request."

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon smiled contentedly as he brushed his hair to a silken sheen. There was a spike in tension down the hall, a welcomed surprise. Katze had managed to overstep, unwittingly exacting the ire of the possessive male in his presence.

Raoul was scared, though he would never admit it.

He had a right, but not for the reasons he supposed. Dark maroon eyes glanced in the mirror, admiring the little music box with renewed hope. All was not lost. His new Master wanted to see him, because of that interfering Kato. He could use this to his advantage, under the circumstances.

**~~~BMR~~~**

His Master was never late, the elder Furniture fussed with dusting as a form of nervous pre-occupation. He was with that ex-Furniture and that odd looking Pet, who seemed familiar somehow. True, he had only seen him for less than a minute, but something was definitely familiar in his gaze.

Deek tutted and continued his rounds towards the alcove. The sound of the artfully placed running stream was most pleasant to his fretful mind. He stopped and looked up at the portrait, glowing softly in the incandescent light.

The eyes were so familiar to him now that peered down, resolute in their condescension, almost reminding him of that ex-Furniture a bit, even in the subtle plains of his face. The Furniture blinked away the uncalled for thought, preferring to focus on how well his Master had captured Sir Niiro in portrait, but then he would with his eidetic abilities and predisposition for exceptional beauty and intellect combined.

Many a day he remembered serving light fare while heated discourse took place in the study on subjects he could not hazard their outcome or content, their home had been livelier then and the lab put to good use, though it always fell to another servile with technical skills to do the cleanup.

Those two had been bound by science and secret in their youth, the Ruby entering realms well beyond his designated station, but encouraged by his Master nonetheless with the apathetic acceptance of Sir Mink over time.

Deek had wondered just how far that friendship went, but it was unthinkable then. A time before the head of Amoi had taken to bedding a disreputable mongrel. There were definite times when the Master had looked perturbed and the ire of the Ruby had been raised. Weeks went by without a visit before the same cycle began again.

The elderly male paused in thought, giving the portrait a final bow. He had been kind. Well as kind as any of them were capable of with that silent veiled creature he often times brought to those meetings out of sight of the other Elites.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Raoul's gaze travelled slowly over the figure dressed in a thin silky black knit sweater and equally snug fitting trousers of a material he called denim. They were this side of obscenely plastered to long legs and then some. No doubt the choices had been made as a form of protest by the glowering male with the ubiquitous smoke about to be lit.

"Satisfied?"

"Not in the least. You are trying my patience intentionally, Katze but your garments will suffice, considering the environment."

Katze glared at the handsome Elite as he entered the office. It seemed Raoul had made himself quite comfortable again, this time with his brandy, while he waited to see the results of his command.

"I'm not a Pet, Sir Am and never will be. I ask humbly that you consider that the next time you give such an order because I do not readily comply to your wishes, well founded or not. This is my space, my world, small and limited as it is. I reign here under his Excellency's auspices. Please allow me that modicum of respect."

The dark amber liquid swirled gently in the bowl of the crystal, giving off its warm fruity fragrance to Raoul's discerning nose as he watched Katze pour his own snifter before sitting across from the Blondie expectantly.

"A decent fuck does not give you carte blanche to speak in such a manner to your superiors."

The dealer inclined his head accepting the quietly spoken reproach. It could have gone worse. "Would you like me to see you out Sir Am or would Donovan be acceptable?"

Tossing his thick mane, Raoul stood. "Whatever, I believe I am capable of traversing the stairs without the supervision of one of your minions."

"As you wish, Sir Am. Wouldn't want you getting lost. This place can be like a warren at times with its many stairs and paths, particularly at this hour when it's quiet and all is dark."

Raoul's eyes narrowed as he watched the ghostlike plumes of smoke that swirled about Katze's pale angular face, waiting for the punch line that never came as the mongrel turned to his monitor and affixed his earpiece.

"Most of the clients have left for the night or are otherwise engaged, so you should encounter no one but the cleaning staff as on your previous visit. Donovan will see you to the limo, for security reasons."

The Elite chuckled to himself as he stood and righted his coat with a flourish. "You are exceedingly good at dismissal, Katze, however subtly played. We can only hope you apply that same acumen to your meeting with Admon."

Katze blinked at the non-sequitur. "Pardon me, Sir Am? I don't quite catch your meaning."

"Sex Katze, Sex. It can be used as a weapon in skilled hands even when cloaked in the guise of companionship. Be careful. This ever present need you mongrels have to have pairing partners is destructive and I suspect the _whore_ has this in mind."

Pale lips quirked half heartedly as the cigarette was stubbed out and the last swig of brandy was downed. Katze rose and rounded the desk to stand before the Elite. He looked Raoul over clinically beneath long lashes, the smile on his lips never quite meeting tired amber eyes.

"And that is my saving grace, Sir Am. I have never desired what I could not have by circumstance, corrections notwithstanding. It is pointless and illusory, life has taught me that much. I am merely grateful that I will see another day, relatively intact. I make no plans beyond the next moment; the next task that keeps me alive because of my usefulness. Never have. Never will."

There was no answer to that. No witty retort comparable or adequate of sentiment.

Raoul's gaze remained fixed upon that handsome scarred face, never realizing until too late a single gloved finger graced Katze's scarred cheek gently. "Mongrels…I will never understand why you chose to keep it."

Katze turned away and headed for the port and opened it with rapid taps to the keypad before bowing deeply to the Elite. "Good evening, Sir Am."

No, there really was no witticism that came to mind to alleviate the churning at the pit of his stomach and so he left, feeling the gaze of the mongrel upon his broad back.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Katze slide down to a crouch and inhaled deeply against the closed port. There was no accounting for why he felt so discontented, bereft of purpose in that instant as he looked about him, entirely dissatisfied with his lot as master of nothing.

His bed called, but he had other matters more pressing. Slowly he raised himself; ears pricked for the sound of a distinctive engine but heard nothing. To assuage the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach he headed for his bedroom and lay amongst the rumpled sheets that still bore the faint scent of their sexual union.

The redhead sighed dejectedly and curled himself atop the disheveled mass of silk, pulling soft pillows to him and inhaled deeply of Raoul, ignoring the eddies of arousal it caused.

"Bastard," he murmured into the stillness, smoothing the cool material closer and in the process finding a single strand of gold which he coiled delicately about his finger. A tangible reminder of a perfect moment he would always carry, if only on the wisp of memory. It would have to be enough.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Scent, the most ephemeral of the senses gifted to the humanoid species was a double edged sword, Raoul knew all too well. It could so readily appease and rile in equal measure, depending on the associated memories that accompanied the olfactory stimuli.

That clawing, floral mélange rose to his discerning nostrils in the pitch blackness where he stood atop the stairwell. Yes, memory was a very strange thing indeed.

Raoul felt the subtle prickling of his spine in warning. The same warning he had felt so many years ago in their first encounter. Perhaps it was the close darkness and the unfamiliar surroundings that focused his attention fully on the subtle movements of the diaphanously cloaked male who stood stock still at the foot of the stairs.

Sir Niiro's acolyte had always worn something similar with each visit to his home, never once revealing himself or uttering a word. Merely following directives, just as Admon had done with Katze earlier that day.

Raoul grasped the railing tightly, amazed at his own stupidity and lack of perceptive foresight. It had been there in front of his eyes all along, his subconscious mind had known.

"_You_ are … Admon?"

Long graceful fingers lowered the filmy veil, revealing a halo of strawberry blonde locks and the perfectly proportioned alien countenance. Admon's lips quirked at their corners in a half smile, knowing full well the connection had finally been made for both.

"Yes, Sir Am."

"You're appearance has changed, but your scent hasn't."

Admon regarded the Blondie quietly, stepping back into shadow, giving a cursory glance over his broad shoulder.

"I am still a work in progress, Raoul Am, awaiting my completion. I too held you in residual memory and only recently began to put the pieces together."

Emerald green flashed disapprovingly at the familiarity as the Blondie's rich mane was tossed irritably over a broad shoulder, that obstinate lock falling back in place shrouding one leery eye.

"Sir Niiro never did see fit to name his living experimentations."

"The Master considered it superfluous. Few saw fruition to actual sentience." Admon answered waspishly, before lowering his gaze. He had not come to foment war with the already bristly Elite. The topic of Guardian would have to wait, considering the two sepulchral shadows silently coming down the stairs, listening intently.

"Out of curiosity, what generation are you?"

Why could he not read him? Better yet, why could the Elite not sense their approach? It was as if a wall had been erected.

"AD Karin – 003."

Raoul's lips set in a pensive moue, pale brows furrowing as he regarded the specimen with analytical eyes. At such close proximity, the scent no longer offended, interesting. Why did he have immunity to its pull?

"Since you are obviously fully functional, why were you so afraid of being examined earlier?"

Admon lowered his gaze. "It is of a personal nature, Sir Am."

The slow raising of the robe revealing a porcelain inner thigh was answer enough.

"He marked you with the crest of his house, but why?"

Raoul recoiled, almost tottering with the realization but for the gentle, familiar hand that grasped his bicep to steady him, jogging him out of his self imposed reverie. He turned to meet the golden, querulous eyes of the dealer and his tall, bald shadow - Donovan.

"You're driver is waiting, Sir Am. Donovan will see you to your vehicle."

**~~~BMR~~~**

Darkness was preferable for this little tryst.

That beautiful register as it screamed in agony adding piquancy to the moment and did wonders for the persistent throb of his heavy member, awaiting its turn to exact punishment in the most delectable and wholly aberrant of ways. Well, Iason mused meditatively, aberrant to the majority of his brethren who would never outwardly countenance such congress.

It was of course beneath them.

But then, they were not privy to the ecstasy of the supple, burnished form writhing suggestively atop the pallet. It mattered not that the mongrel was in pain as the metallic ring tightened and pulsed about his distended cock.

Iason sighed contentedly twisting the device he wore as ring on his middle finger and closed his eyes momentarily gripped by the bitter sweet cadence of that tired rasp as Riki slumped into unconsciousness.

The Platina's brows furrowed briefly as he regarded the device before his brows smoothed. He looked beneficently at his recalcitrant Pet and tsked indulgently. That charge had not been nearly enough to produce the feigned results. When would he learn?

"Naughty…a little contrition on your part would go a long way, Riki in alleviating your discomfort."

"You're one sick fuck!" Riki growled, yanking on his restraints to no avail.

Iason groaned softly uncrossing his long legs, ignoring the pressing needs of his loins was becoming unbearable. Cold, ice blue eyes surveyed the truly exquisite body, well cut, lean muscle shimmering with sweat, rippling responsively to each jolt of electric shock.

Gloved finger tips slid slowly up the Elite's thigh, feather light, eyes transfixed on the object of possessive lust.

"I'm sorry! Is that what you want to hear, you fuckin' deviant?!" Riki ground out through gritted teeth, barely able to catch his breath as his sight was blinded once more from the burning, sharp stimulus to his already over-sensitized cock. The manacles were burning now, cutting into his wrists and ankles with each painful tug of resistance.

Movement, the tethered mongrel noted peripherally. If he could get him to come closer, he'd make him stop this shit. No matter what, Iason always gave in with a little dirty talk as stimulus.

"I know you're over there touching yourself. What? Not hard enough yet?! Bring it here, I'll soon fix that."

Dark eyes were finally able to refocus at the looming pale shadow that bent forward blocking the one source of light within the room. He felt the gloved finger tip caress and pinch his lower lip.

"Such a dirty mouth," Iason purred softly with a dissolute smile curving soft full lips.

"Bitch!" Riki snarled and bit the finger tip between his teeth, the gratifying taste of salty blood entering his mouth before a fist connected with his jaw. The mongrel managed a wry smile as he shifted his jaw looking up into the white hot fury that had entered dark pupils that almost eclipsed sky blue irises as clothing was quickly dispensed with.

Let the games begin. The Elite was on his turf now.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Cal flinched at the angry cries coming from the small room to the back of the penthouse, reserved for punitive redress, as Sir Mink, euphemistically chose to view the disciplining of his ill-tempered mongrel.

Stiffening his own spine to the coming distasteful task, the Furniture went to the equally small adjoining room with its medical supplies. By the sound of things, he would be needed in short order. It really was best to be prepared. He hadn't needed to attend the young man for quite some time.

The Furniture shook his head sadly. Things had been going so well. His Master had been so pleasantly disposed these last few weeks and now this. All because of his willful Pet, who had no one to blame but himself.

**~~~BMR~~~**

He would not soon defy him again.

"Riki…Riki…Riki."

That tight ring of muscle had finally surrendered to his girth, blissfully tight and slick with the mongrel's own internal warmth. No need for lubricant. This too was part of the punishment to take him unprepared.

Iason nuzzled the damp cheek, inhaling deeply of the mongrel's distinctive tang.

"You grip me so delightfully, even in evident distress." Iason whispered into Riki's ear as he continued to plunder, the hot slick orifice with merciless strokes of his turgid length.

He was no longer fighting, perhaps he was enjoying it. He usually did, despite protestations to the contrary.

Something was different though. Riki's limbs were too slack and unresponsive. Usually he gave as good as he got in this little battle of wills.

Iason opened his eyes in horror, noting for the first time the pallet beneath the mongrel and his own hips and thighs were saturated not with sweat but blood.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Cal's eyes grew wide as the cup he held crashed to the tiled kitchen floor.

There before him was his Master, naked, bloody and unkempt with Riki's limp, unconscious body cradled in his arms. The Elite's mouth worked, but no sound came as he looked down at the pale, almost blank expressionless face of his Pet.

Distraught, regretful eyes finally looking to the Furniture, beseeching aid.

Cal approached the shivering Blondie with outstretched arms.

Iason snarled, pulling the body more tightly to him as if in defense, kissing the clammy forehead.

"I'll fetch, Sir Am."

Cal wasn't sure if his Excellency had heard, but he did note the name had registered in the dull countenance as the Elite turned with his burden, stepping through the broken shards and headed for the Master bedroom, tracking blood on the carpeting in his wake, oblivious to his own injuries.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Its seepage engendered fear for the untutored.

Blood was never quite the color most preferred to project in art. It was so rarely vibrant crimson. In reality it was a deep maroon when oxidized; a dark, sacred liquid with ultimate power over life and death.

It was acrid, thick and its coppery scent left much to be desired when left to stew, but fortunately not in this instance.

Raoul's gaze travelled briefly to the side of the bed as he worked efficiently counting, if peripherally, the number of swabs used, post suturing.

This had not been optimal. Hardly a surgery, despite the luxurious surroundings, but his friend of years called and it was his duty to attend, without question.

No one deserved this. Not even a lowly mongrel such as this; tiresome to say the least and importunate at the best of times. Raoul's mind briefly turned to the redhead, of equally fragile make - unacceptable.

Surely death would follow for anyone who would dare to take such liberties, even another of his brethren. Of this there was no question.

Raoul turned his hardened, disappointed gaze to the still figure who sat at the far window, barely robed and a shadow of his former self. Iason was still a disheveled mess and virtually catatonic. His blank stare only for the prone mongrel who had been bathed, and lain down once more in a medically induced stupor.

He had not been home more than thirty minutes before the com sounded and a frantic Cal sought his immediate audience for something that required his '_utmost_' discretion.

Raoul had hoped to have some minutes to process, perhaps to look over those ancient medical notes. AD – Karin -003 was perfect. If he was right, Admon was all Amoi did not need.

He was fact. With him came complications calling into question all manner of theories long held by the pampered and cosseted, the chosen of Lambda 3000, who in itself had forgotten its original purpose.

The Blondie gently raised the coverlet over the still resting male and gathered his equipment, giving only a cursory glance to his friend.

"I will return before the Auction for a check in. Leave him be for now, Iason. Do not disturb his rest."

It was a command. The first he had ever given to his leader. Cal flinched at Raoul's tone and furtively looked to his Master who stared blankly at the mongrel but nodded his assent.

He regarded his friend and trusted confidante, the leader of this formerly barren rock in the Commonwealth. Iason, the ultimate Elite, who like the entity he served had long forgotten its' most humble of beginning on the twelfth and most unremarkable of planets in the system of Garan.

**Author's Note**

I know. A rough ride, but it serves for the greater good. Hope you enjoyed.

**EP**


	19. Chapter 18

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature – Implied

Parts: **WIP** – **18** of 25

Reviews are fuel.

_**Doffs cap to Asimov's Three Laws…and continued eternal thanks to A_ngua and Ainzfern for love and encouragement in a tale with a differing spin. Oh and as always to my muse, who I like to call IT, who keeps battering me until each chapter is typed. IT has a wicked advantage. IT knows where each chapter ends.**_

**Chapter 18** of 25 – **Slave to the Rhythm** (Post OVA)

Donovan closed the door behind him. He didn't much like leaving the Boss with that thing in the office, but Katze didn't seem in the mood to '_discuss_' options at the moment.

The best he could do was to stand vigil with laser cocked.

Tops two seconds to override the entry code and blow that piece of pseudo shit to smithereens, or better yet, take it apart with his bare hands. He shivered in disgust, remembering what he had done with it.

For once Guy's gut had been right, but for all the wrong reasons.

Folding long powerful arms across his broad chest, Donovan glared at his own shadowy reflection on the opposing wall. Fuck what he wouldn't give for the port to be reopened and to be given the standing order to kill on sight.

He hoped the Boss knew what he was doing.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon cocked his head to one side and cautiously turned regarding the firm set of Katze's shoulders as he examined the contents of the bookshelf behind the plasma screen. It was obvious that the black market dealer took great pleasure in his sparse yet rare collection by the reverent way he lifted the ancient tome from the sanctified space and lovingly turned the pages.

Actual pages that turned with text somewhat faded from myriad hands and time.

Simply unheard of for one such as he, a mongrel; not even the more affluent citizenry of Midas could boast such wealth or would desire it.

Such ostentation was distinctly Elite of sensibility.

Katze turned, slim dark filter unlit as he examined the text and smiled. Cognac eyes rose from the selected page and locked with Admon's dark, merlot irises

The Karinese actually shivered in response, unable to decipher the exact content of that look. Only the Master had ever possessed such an inward gaze and only when displeased - never a good start.

Admon instinctively began to slowly reverse towards the couch in defeat.

"Sit."

He nodded and lowered himself gracefully, folding the silky material of his robe about him, almost defensively.

Katze's gaze fell upon his naked feet and he shook his head at the eccentricity before handing the open leather bound tome to him.

"Read this."

Admon examined the spine, the text was almost unintelligible. At one point, the spine had been gold leafed, now only well embossed letters still bore gold flecked traces, like an antiquated jigsaw puzzle.

"_Anthology?_"

Katze's continued to look through him, propping himself on the corner of the desk. "A collection of stories in this instance; focus on the page selected and the words in the first paragraph on the left hand side, Admon."

The Karinese scanned quickly. A cold chill went through him as his eyes narrowed and full lips thinned into a line of disapproval. Katze and Donovan had heard the entirety of the conversation with the Blondie after all.

"Read them aloud, if you please."

Admon noted the filter tip remained unlit as graceful fingers smoothed the paper surface again and again meditatively.

"_The Three Laws of Robotics?"_

Katze inclined his head, pale eyes glistening like a coiled serpent about to strike.

"Replace robot with _android_. It reads better."

Having no choice, the Karinese began the recitation:

"_**One. **__**An android may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.**__''_

"You will never take it upon yourself to EVER threaten Kato again. I value him."

Admon nodded as the cold prickling within his spine began to tingle in warning as Katze rose quietly and stood before him with a bland expression in place.

"Continue…"

"_**Two. **__**An android must obey any orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.**__''_

"This is your home, for better or worse. I am your sole source of protection, Admon. Until this Master Niiro makes an appearance. If he does, then you are free to go. In case you missed it, I am a human being. Not so sure about your precious Master who left you for dead to fend for yourself. And a shit job you were doing of it in the very worst part of Ceres. How long did you think you would've lasted, if we hadn't '_found_' you?"

Katze leaned forward, peering into shadowed eyes before finally lighting his smoke and inhaling deeply. "I want to trust you. I want to believe what you have told me. All I have to do is contact Sir Am and I suspect you would be…well, it doesn't bear thinking about does it? Continue…"

"_**Three. **__**An android must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.**__ ''_

"You get a chance to prove Law Three later today at the Auction. You will be accompanying me, as my guest. I have a business proposition for you."

"Boss!"

The redhead sighed as Donovan burst through the door looking feral, blue eyes seeking the whereabouts of the Karinese and coming to rest on his quarry. The guard heaved a sigh of relief and looked at Katze with an apologetic expression.

His scarred lip quirked, "Kinda quiet in here and I just thought, you know…him being and you…okay, um…I'll just," Donovan pointed at the open port.

Katze really wanted to smile and only discipline prevented it. Humans and their apathy to droids and an alien variety to boot.

Jupiter be praised. Donovan was actually blushing with embarrassment as he holstered his laz-gun and sniffed, resuming his impassive stare at the Karinese and avoiding Katze's knowing smirk.

"Excellent timing as always, Donovan, confine him to his quarters until fourteen hundred hours."

White teeth gleamed in the slowly warming light of the new day. "You got it, Boss!"

Swaths of silk danced upon the self made current as Admon was unceremoniously and rather painfully ushered from the office. Katze looked away hurriedly. Donovan was using more force than was strictly necessary.

Sensibly, the Karinese offered no outward resistance.

Katze snickered as his formidable mind shifted perspective. He almost loved his minder in that moment. Gazing at the chronometer atop his desk, he smiled. Two entire hours, he could lie down, completely undisturbed for two hours.

The redhead toed off his shoes and wriggled his toes making a beeline for his bedroom; two entire hours, of no Raoul Am, no Admon, no nothin' just sleep.

Tired eyes closed as the portable com he wore at his waist vibrated. Katze almost moaned as his shoulders slumped and he pressed the open frequency. . Not for the first time, he began to wonder if the Blondie in question had dormant psychic genes.

"Yes, Sir Am?"

There was a pregnant pause as he entered his bedroom and he shifted the com, placing it in the docking station on his nightstand and turned in the direction he knew the holo screen would appear.

"Katze, why are you not using visual mode?"

Sighing loudly, the mongrel sat atop the rumpled sheets and removed his clothing slowly before hitting the visual prompt. As expected the holographic image of a pissed Raoul Am, seated resplendently behind the desk in his study came to view, long and elegant, no longer gloved fingers thrumming the ancient wooden desk.

"I do not appreciate being kept waiting, Katze."

The redhead fluffed his pillows, observing the time stamp; yep, two hours, if he could get rid of the bastard by humoring him.

"How may I be of service, Sir Am?"

A pale brow quirked as sea green eyes narrowed speculatively. "You are in bed? What of the proposed meeting?"

"Done."

Raoul's lips pursed, a thick golden lock tossed irritably by deft fingers.

"And?"

"He is the most perfect android I have ever seen. He almost rivals your kind. I'm keeping him, Sir Am."

The Elite's brow furrowed then smoothed.

"Where is he?'

With a deep exhalation the mongrel glared at the holo image with no small amount of exasperation. "In his quarters, Sir Am, where else would he be at this hour?"

Katze noted, the angry line about full lips had retreated and broad shoulders relaxed somewhat as the Elite pinned him with a supercilious glare.

"What are you doing in bed?"

The urge to retort, 'isn't that fucking obvious' was quashed, replaced by the more genial and appropriate. "I need rest, Sir Am. I will be there at the appointed hour his Excellency commanded. Is there something I can do for you in the meantime, Sir Am?"

"Ahh about that, I might be somewhat delayed. In fact, consider this a countermand to Iason's original order."

Was it his imagination or did the Blondie actually look furtive?

Bottle green eyes glowered briefly at the mongrel's speculative gaze and the clear delight he saw in those exotic amber depths. "You need not look so relieved, Katze. All of this could change on a credits notice. I believe in being prepared and thought it appropriate to apprise you of possible changes to our original itinerary."

Katze retrieved the pillows on the opposing side of the bed with flourish and pounded them briefly before adjusting them behind his head.

"Uuuuhhh huh…"

Raoul pinched the bridge of his nose with infinite delicacy. "Tone, Katze."

He had to do something to stave off the urge to genuinely laugh. Raoul was hiding something and badly too; for him to countermand his Excellency boded ill.

The smile that had almost reached his eyes faltered as he turned to regard the silent Elite.

"What's wrong, Raoul?"

A pale brow arched as the Blondie steepled his fingers, regarding Katze with a pensive expression.

"You have a peculiar habit that usually occurs under strong emotional stimuli."

Cold amber eyes flickered over the handsome face, searching. "What would that be, Sir Am?"

"You called me Raoul without giving it thought and not for the first time."

Katze blushed openly, nervously fingering his bang. "I apologize, Sir Am. It will never happen again."

The Elite waved dismissively. "Understandable in the throes of passion to be sure, one is hardly thinking with their head at such times. It will be overlooked in future."

The redhead snorted.

Raoul glared. "Did I say something amusing, mongrel?"

Shaking his head, Katze snorted again, almost openly laughing. "You said thinking with your head. I can think of one head doing all the thinking at that point, Sir Am."

Raoul's bland expression was priceless as he cleared his throat. "Droll."

Katze shrugged. "You asked, Sir Am. Now, will you tell me what is wrong, please?"

The diffident gaze grew hooded while long elegant fingers tapped the desks wooden surface.

"Riki is indisposed and might require my medical expertise."

Huffing softly to himself, the dealer reached for his stash and lit a black nocturne. "I fuckin' told him to get his ass home on time, but noooo."

"Yes, this tendency you _all_ have for defiance is irritating to say the least."

Pointedly ignored Raoul's intended barb and responding to the internal com instead, the mongrel smiled apologetically at the Elite, "One moment, Sir Am. Just have to get this, if it's not too much trouble?"

"Kato, bring coffee, strong and black. Oh and make sure Admon is ready in the next hour and a half. I've changed my mind."

Raoul listened intently as instructions were passed. Perhaps at another time the banter could have proved moderately amusing what with the servant's disapproval and obvious concern about his Master's lack of sleep, but Katze had mentioned that Admon creature – again, setting his teeth on edge.

"So what's the damage this time, anything broken?"

The warm beguiling tone rendered his internal musings mute as the attractive, silk shrouded mongrel lit another of those sweetly scented concoctions. He could almost smell it, from memory alone.

At the moment, Riki was the least of the Elite's concerns. What was Admon being readied for?

"Suffice it to say, your fellow mongrel will be out and about causing all manner of havoc within the week. It has always amazed me his ability to heal, almost as rapidly as you do. Must be a byproduct of that genetic stew you call a bloodline."

Katze smiled secretively. "True. Mongrels by nature tend to be hardy stock, Sir Am. Survival of the fittest, so to speak. It is only the rare breeds that tend to perpetuate genetic flaws thought to be desirable, generation after generation. They can afford that luxury. We simply die if we can't pass muster."

The dealer saw the abrupt icy shift of the Elite's gaze. Maybe this time he had gone too far. Fuck, why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? Many had been mind wiped for less.

Raoul glared down his perfect patrician nose at the mongrel. "Hardly, the genetically flawed are disposed of, as my Academy Pets will attest."

'_Yeah, but who said anything about Pets?_' Katze's gaze shifted a fraction as he lowered his eyes with a self-conscious twitch of auburn bangs. "Of course, Sir Am, my comment was out of line. I apologize. Please put it down to fatigue, a common human frailty of which you have no concept."

Golden brows furrowed in suspicion. Why was Katze being so obeisant? His observations did have some limited merit with respect to quite a few Off World specimens currently in the genetics labs at Guardian. He could not have possibly meant Elites? What a laughable concept. They were the pinnacle of fostered evolution. The envy of the Commonwealth for intellect, aesthetics and longevity.

Still the mongrel was genuinely afraid. Those long elegant fingers twitched as they rose to his lips with the filter tip, despite his attempt at control and the irritating flip of bangs was always a sign of discomfort.

Raoul knew he had won this round, but it felt an empty victory.

"Katze? Don't be tedious. Look at me."

Surprisingly, the fearful gaze that met his cautiously beneath sooty lashes was in no way gratifying.

"It is unlike you to surrender so readily."

Mesmerizing golden orbs grew hard and opaque.

"There is no sport without your pathetic attempt at witty observation to counter."

Finally, the vaguest whisper of a smirk touched those delectably maleable lips. It would do.

"Thanks, I have my moments...Sir Am."

The light had returned to those sensual pools of light as well – much preferable.

"Riki's current condition, Sir Am?"

"More to the point, Katze, what is Admon being made ready for?"

The dealer pursed his lips in irritation. Weird though, Raoul seemed inordinately pleased by his obvious annoyance as the sheets were thrown back and the mongrel began dressing again.

"Well? Tit for tat, I believe is the phrase of the moment." Raoul purred enjoying the view, making a mental note that for their next encounter. He would insist on a slow stripping of the mongrel, perhaps even making a game of it.

Katze turned to face the holo image hearing Raoul's sharp intake of breath and unconsciously adjusting.

The dealer regretted it instantly as the Elite's gaze shifted to his inseam with a lascivious grin that spoke volumes. Shit, if he could bottle that look, he'd be richer than Iason Mink, not to mention have a perpetual hard on to contend with.

"Excuse me, Sir Am?" Damn but he was picking up some weird assed expressions. That one had to be from Riki himself.

"It would seem there was a disagreement that did not go in the dark mongrel's favor."

The redhead pursed his lips and waved the silent shadow into the room beyond Raoul's visual. "Okay, let me guess, one of their sick little games?"

Pale brows lifted quizzically. "Sick is such a harsh term. One would prefer adventurous."

Katze snorted, bowing decorously to the fussy attendant who once again made himself scarce post handing the steaming mug to his master.

Fascinating, truly it was, how the mongrel shifted the cup and sniffed with evident pleasure before closing his eyes and taking a sip.

Raoul re-crossed his legs, his groin feeling decidedly envious of the rim of the cup.

"Whatever, Sir Am, will I be allowed to see him, Riki I mean, when I pick you up?"

"No. We have other matters to attend to."

"Sir Niiro?"

The Elite slowly nodded, "And Admon's purpose amongst others. What is he being readied for?"

Shaking his head, Katze placed the mug on the night table. "He will become my eyes and ears for what I cannot sense. I have this feeling some shit is about to come down and he is my only form of early warning, my only defense."

This offended the Elite, though he could not fathom why, as he regarded the lithe, shadowed figure whose silhouette was shrouded in darkness.

Katze for the first time looked inordinately small and defenseless – most disconcerting.

"You will come now. Leave that _thing_ in his quarters for the time being."

Before the dealer could argue the change, the com link was abruptly cut.

Fuck, but he was gonna kill that overgrown brat one day!

Pale amber looked to the rising sun beyond the window and sniffed the remainder of his mug before finishing the dark elixir.

One day, just not today.

**EP**


	20. Chapter 19

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature – Sexual Situations

Parts: **WIP** – **19** of 25

Reviews are fuel.

_**Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight of their objects than love.**_

**George Eliot**

**Chapter 19** of 25 – Phantom** Pain** (Post OVA)

Unfocussed ice blue eyes watched the slow progress of a single persistent beam of sunlight as it crept across white silken sheets and gently caressed the burnished torso of the sleeping figure. It had reached his clavicles now and the hollow between. A hand flew up defensively in sleep and dark brows furrowed briefly, before the well sculpted face relaxed and a soft unintelligible murmur came to full, dry lips.

Iason rose abruptly and hissed in discomfort when the muscles in his thighs seized. He willed his lower limbs to obey ignoring the sharp shooting pains that accompanied him as he quietly padded across the bedroom. He needed to be vigilant and monitor any obvious signs of distress that might require immediate medical attention.

Raoul had assured him that these phantom pains were nothing more than tissue memory due to the abrupt and traumatic amputation of his lower limbs at Dana Bahn. He had promised it would grow infrequent as the network of bio-mechanical nerve circuitry healed.

Leaning forward the Elite brushed his lips over soft damp onyx, breathing in Riki's scent before carefully coaxing strong, almost coltish arms under the covers again, just as he had done most of the long night.

The victory was short lived however, as the covers were thrown back again petulantly, exposing a bruised hip bone. Iason looked away hurriedly.

He needed no disturbing reminders of the night before, when he had surrendered to the primal urge to conquer his Pet's flesh like a sex starved droid.

Carefully perching on the side of their bed, Iason smoothed his fingertips over the warm, velvet skin of an arm until tense muscles relaxed sufficiently to allow for movement without waking the mongrel.

A pale brow rose in amused satisfaction as the mongrel sighed contentedly, as anticipated, and threw the other arm out from beneath the covers for a similar treatment.

"My Riki," Iason murmured, taking bruised fingers in his and examined broken shredded nails, some still bearing traces of dried blood, Iason's own. Though Riki would never admit it, Iason had found by trial and error, the feral male he longed to poses loved to be petted and stroked at the most inopportune of times. In fact most often post coital, when the Elite desired nothing more than restorative slumber.

The sudden irrational urge to gather the slighter being to him had to be quashed as he placed the arm under the sheets and stood.

**~~~BMR~~~**

"Fuck!"

Flame red hair darkened to a deep auburn hue when the heavens opened with a violent clap and warm insistent rain pelted the black market dealer as he exited his aircar with a curse. His bangs dripped in his eyes, plastering his scarred cheek uncomfortably while he tapped the keys of his com rapidly.

The uncomfortable feeling as rivulets meandered down his coat collar only amplified the malevolence of the glare he leveled up at the glistening tower that housed his boss and that interfering pest.

No, Donovan's short message did nothing to improve his current mood. He just knew that inhumanly attractive fuck had demanded his immediate presence for no other reason other than that he could and now fucking with his time honored protocol? Changing the details for something he had scrupulously planned for months?

Not on!

Though loathed to admit it, what truly irritated most was his traitorous dick. It seems it had found a new hobby and was actually excited at the prospect of seeing the sexy bastard again. He could only hope it was just pent up aggression at work. No accounting for taste, he chided himself placing the wet filter to his lips and cursing his fate as he spat.

He crushed the damp mess beneath already sodden shoes, shaking his head as a cold shiver gave rise to a wistful thought. If Jupiter were kind, he might just come down with a case of incurable pneumonia, what with the sudden chattering of his teeth.

If you looked hard enough, he mused while squelching purposefully towards the secured elevators, there was always a silver lining.

**~~~BMR~~~**

He hated doing the books. The Boss always found fault in the end, but not this time, he thought smugly. Donovan stretched tiredly and yawned.

Cerulean eyes drifted away from the monitor across the darkened bar room to the private nook where the wholly unattractive spectacle of Guy with mouth open, drooled on the surface of a table strewn with empty bottles. The kid and his crew had actually worked the night through as an auxiliary security detail while the usual retinue guarded the new acquisitions, destined for the off-world clientele. Weird but he had chosen to stay, when all the action was over and Katze had hurriedly left the building, the silent rage about him causing both to keep a very wide berth of the mercurial redhead.

The only thing left was the final med checks and that had apparently been underway for the last thirty minutes or so without the Boss' by your leave.

Something just didn't fit.

Sir Am had actually secured his encoded com link not ten minutes ago. As usual, the imperious Blondie shit had assumed that tone they all do while informing his lesser of the alteration in the original itinerary without giving him the slightest opportunity to respond, to question or confirm that it was okay with his Boss. What would the point have been?

Rock and a hard place that call was as Donovan had bristled within while the pompous ass stared through him knowingly as he scrambled to inform his own security team of the changes, but found they had been usurped by Midas covert ops to be left on the periphery as impotent guards with nothing to do but watch.

Blondies did nothing by halves. Jupiter but he hated them.

As soon as the link was severed a single line of text came through. It had been the reassurance he needed.

'_Controlling_ _Asshole!!!'_

Oh yeah, the Boss was pissed alright. Just for a moment, Donovan sniggered quietly. Took one to know one, he thought, wondering if Katze actually realized that his usually impassive persona was all ablaze when it came to this Being who set his teeth on edge and his loins on fire in equal measure.

The prompt blinked indicating the link was still open. Donovan waited and began to smile when the much less rapidly keyed text came through.

' _No choice...Stay frosty. Later_.'

Guy began to snore in earnest as he shifted, farted and swatted at his unruly mane which had come undone, tickling his nose.

Sniggering softly the bodyguard stretched and rose to his full imposing height before approaching the sleeping figure. Donovan's nose wrinkled.

"Damn boy, what the hell did you eat?" he murmured, somewhat amused by the angelic expression Guy's worn handsome face had assumed having expelled the noxious vapor cloud. Just for a moment, he wondered about the name they had given themselves.

Bison, kind of a strange moniker, an ancient mammal from the antiquated world their lineage had once called home.

The Boss had shown him a capture of the creatures from some ancient text. It was funny lookin' with its shaggy mane but seen in their thousands kinda regal and imposing walking across grasslands with a permanence that was all but memory now.

Guy moaned softly and slipped off the table onto the plush seating with a muffled thump.

Donovan stopped in his tracks. No sign of life. The bodyguard shook his head as blue eyes took full accounting of the number of empty bottles. Enough stout to poison the uninitiated, but when it was your life blood, the ultimate in sleep aids.

"Come on, little man," Donovan murmured before hoisting the near comatose mongrel over a broad shoulder and carting him down the stairs to his own quarters. At least one of them would get some rest while he waited for Sir Am's team's verdict.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Self control was everything, Katze reminded himself as he waited for the imposing door that lead into the social space of the Elite's home to open. It did and as anticipated a set of supercilious emerald green eyes gazed down at him, taking in his current sodden state with pursed lips.

Unconsciously the black market dealer raised his fingers to his jaw line and glared back accusingly. "It's raining."

"So I see."

Katze shivered involuntarily with rage. If he didn't get it out now before stepping in, he never would.

"Well, Sir Am? Why exactly am I here since I have been informed your crew is already doing a final inspection of the, and I quote," Katze retrieved his Com and glared at the green filtered screen with narrowed lips, "_the livestock_."

Raoul observed the barely contained anger in the little mongrel's face with satisfaction. The dealer was fit to be tied that his plans had been countered.

Katze had definite control issues. Raoul intended to disabuse him of them. Far too high handed and no one but Iason was to blame for this, the Elite mused meditatively as golden eyes glared up at him in impotent hate.

Disparity in height, breadth and station notwithstanding, given the slightest opportunity at all now they both would be rolling about the hallway making a spectacle, sure to give Deek heart failure. It really wasn't seemly to be aroused by the concept but testosterone being what it was in the humanoid male of the species, the thought was invigorating nonetheless.

"It appears you are displeased, Katze?"

Citrine eyes raked over the Elite's informal garb with annoyance and sudden realization. "It appears you aren't dressed, Sir Am."

Raoul looked down at his casual attire with feigned surprise at the comment. He saw nothing amiss with his current at home attire. A soft shirt of a most complimentary aquamarine hue and slim fitting trousers that emphasized lean powerful hips and inordinately long, well muscled legs; all entirely appropriate, right down to the soft slippers on his feet.

"Come through, Katze. It is entirely inappropriate to air your grievances like a gutter mongrel in the hallway for all to hear."

The dealer glared. "This floor is yours. No one's about, Sir Am or would dare eavesdrop, other than Deek." Katze stood his ground. "Why am I here?"

He heard the soft preemptive growl rising in Raoul's chest. "Fine. Where do you want me?"

No, he didn't much like the lascivious curve of those pale, well formed lips as he passed the Elite and entered the foyer to the social space. He really needed to choose his words more carefully in future, but in the meantime, it was time to get down to business.

Katze turned abruptly to face the Blondie, who still wore the lecherous expression, though muted now by other thoughts as he examined Katze's shivering form anew and the wet trail left in his wake. "Is it my imagination or are you predisposed to being a sartorial disaster each time I open that door and grant you entry?"

The redhead's teeth began to chatter. He clenched his jaws to stave off the involuntary tremors.

"Strip," Raoul commanded with a dismissive wave of an ungloved hand while heading to the wet bar.

If pneumonia didn't take him, this might just be the day he killed Raoul Am, putting both of them out of his growing misery.

Katze began to do as he was told while pale amber eyes tracked the deft movements of the Elite pouring a generous snifter of brandy with a studious air and the usual telltale smug expression.

That fucker had control issues for sure.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Donovan carefully wound the long chestnut mane around his fist, keeping it away from the spewing detritus of Guy's mouth. He needed a better grip on him as his head swung from side to side while heaving over the vanity with alarming regularity and volume.

Guy hiccupped and whimpered between bouts of self pity. "I want to die…let me die. Just let me die."

"Not on my watch, little man."

The warm compress was applied to the sweating forehead again, before being wrenched from Donovan's grip.

"Fuck off! I don't need your help, Baldy. Get off me, pervert!"

Keen blue eyes studied the pallor beneath the warm tanned skin and the unfocused gaze of pale gray. "Nope, don't think so. Just behave before I pull down those overly tight leathers and give you a spanking."

Guy spat a final time into the sink and wiped his mouth across his sleeve. "Pervert! You're not getting' any unless you're into necro …necro…," Guy's brows knit in frustration as he looked in the mirror trying to remember the fancy word for boning a corpse.

"Necrophilia?" Donovan offered with a quiet chuckle, reluctantly releasing the surprising soft chestnut silk. "Nah, not my speed, kiddo. I like my mount kickin', screamin' and beggin' for more."

The mongrel gazed at Donovan speculatively in the mirror, for once choosing to keep his own counsel as he rinsed, welcoming the cool, fresh taste in his soured mouth.

"Who doesn't?"

"Huh?"

The bodyguard moved away from Bison's leader to prop up the opposing wall. Too close for comfort. Guy didn't look like he was going to fall face first into the sink anymore and color was returning to his face. Donovan plucked one of the two white towels from the rack and held it out to the belligerent mongrel.

"What you were thinking. Who doesn't?"

Guy's eyes narrowed as he grabbed the offered towel and roughly toweled his face. "What is this Plan B, 'cause you want to scratch that itch again?

"Guilty as charged, little man. Cleaned up, you'd be amazing."

"Pretendin' to be all carin' and shit…." Guy trailed off, his neck coloring slightly as he tried to ignore Donovan's reflection in the mirror and the not so veiled compliment.

Their eyes met and Donovan simply smiled. Guy was actually blushing. "It's a nice ass, I'll admit. I'm not dead, Guy."

"I ain't stupid, Donny Boy. I know what you want." Guy reiterated under his breath, refolding the towel with unusual precision and placing it on the vanity's rim. "Yeah, well, just so you know, I'm onto you, any port in a storm and shit."

Donovan raised his hands in feigned surrender. This conversation was heading nowhere fast.

"Want something for that head?"

Gray eyes looked suspiciously up at the imposing breadth of man who looked kind of tired himself. He didn't look like he was planning to make the moves. It seemed to be a genuine question.

Donovan sighed in resignation, reading the mongrel's expression loud and clear. Guy was looking for a fight. His only response to anything he thought represented weakness.

"No Guy, this isn't Plan C. Unlike some, I learn from my mistakes. I brought you down here so you wouldn't break your stupid little neck trying to sleep in the booth. I repeat; do you want something? Cause in about an hour when that oversized melon of yours begins to seriously pound from dehydration, you'll pray for death."

The chestnut haired mongrel shrugged indifferently and pointed at the tap. "I got water. Don't need nothing else…thanks."

"Okay. Sleep well, Guy."

Guy blinked as Donovan exited the bathroom and lazily headed for the door, noting the bed had already been turned down. He was serious. "What? That's it?"

The bodyguard turned and regarded Guy's shocked face with amusement. "As I said, Guy, unlike some, I do learn from my mistakes."

**~~~BMR~~~**

In portraiture as in life, it is always the subtle interplay of light shun, just so, upon shadow that proved most revelatory. Just as now, when Katze silently padded down the darkened hallway and approached the exquisite portrait of the singular Ruby Elite.

There was no question in the mongrel's mind that it was placed here in reverence and secreted in such a way that the casual visitor would not encounter it or the passageway that housed it whose watery trill stilled the mind in preparation for the alcove and the sacred relic placed there.

Raoul had loved once.

Katze's chest constricted momentarily as he pulled the soft crimson robe he had been given more tightly around him and sipped the sweet, viscous liquid. It sent much needed warmth down his throat while he contemplated the depiction, drawn as always to familiar pale amber eyes. He could almost hear the deep register of the Elite in question, but then, his imagination had always been rather vivid.

He shivered at the thought.

"They were gray once, but he had notions. Sir Niiro was prone to a lot of them," Raoul offered quietly from behind."I thought you were going to the facilities?"

Katze turned and regarded the Blondie with a questioning citrine gaze. The answer came readily to mind then. "I have. You mean his eyes, don't you?"

"Yes."

The mongrel nodded and returned his gaze to the portrait. "I did wonder the first time I saw them. Most of you have varying shades of blue."

A half smile playing about the dealer's lips as he turned fully to face the Elite.

Katze gave Raoul a sidelong glance, beneath long lashes before bowing deferentially. "Present company exempt of course."

"I beg your pardon?"

The dealer examined the bowl of his snifter with a sardonic half smile before inhaling the rich fruity fragrance that sent a warming sensation to his throat.

"Even yours in the right light are a breathtaking aquamarine, I must admit."

A rich golden wave was tossed indignantly over a broad shoulder as Raoul self-consciously examined his cuffs, coloring prettily beneath Katze's knowing gaze; Raoul Am was capable of blushing.

"It appears the Allurian Brandy has loosened your tongue. There will be no seduction here today, Katze, unless I so choose."

Katze snickered and stretched unselfconsciously. "Yeah, good luck with that, Sir Am. You'd be fuckin' the dead. I'm just saying what you must have been told a thousand times, your eyes are beautiful and defy the norm."

Raoul glared down at the mongrel thoroughly affronted by the dealer's tone and yet those emerald green eyes challenged the redhead to continue, while strong digits with a surprising gentle grasp removed the snifter from cold, elegant fingers.

"When did you last take nourishment, Katze? You are not yourself."

It was the dealer's turn to stare in shock. "If you remember correctly, Sir Am, I was _**commanded**_ to come over here before the damn sun was up! When the fuck was I suppose to eat?"

Not for the first time, Katze realized Raoul had selective hearing as the snifter was returned with a long suffering sigh. "Finish it. Perhaps it will stabilize your blood sugar levels which appear to be running riot with your emotions this morning. It is far too early in the day for such commonness of speech."

Auburn brows worked in irritation. Obviously, Raoul wasn't biting. By now that vituperative tongue would have found some way of properly attempting to put him back in his place. Instead the damned Elite just stood there looking moderately prosaic and giving him the speculative once over.

"Deek will not be serving the morning repast for another hour."

Returning his full attention to the portrait in front of them, Raoul's eyes narrowed assessing the work. "He would sometimes experiment upon himself, hence the eye color chosen in direct defiance to our genetic encoding. Such a tiresome, quixotic being at times, but a genius with far flung ideas."

Katze shook his head. It really was a beautiful rendering. The mongrel raised his snifter in deference. "I like a man who can think for himself, despite the odds against him."

"To his detriment, you mean?"

"Some things are worth fighting for, Sir Am."

"Risk and unchecked ambition are not the hallmarks of intellect, Katze, but willful stupidity."

"Perhaps not, but they are the hallmarks of a being who is sufficiently broad of intellect to not be colored by a given society's dictate to maintain the status quo, simply because a powerful minority labor under the delusion of their own omnipotence."

"Rules are there for the protection of all and the orderly running of a society, Katze."

He felt tired suddenly as he gazed up at Sir Niiro's impassively perfect countenance. "I beg to differ, Sir Am. Enslavement of one, is enslavement of all. The history of the humanoid species has proved that time and time again, regardless of where we have made home. When a society refuses to change, it dies. We are dying, Raoul."

Palpable was the silence that followed the quietly spoken statement as both men continued to regard the portrait, mindfully absorbed in their own thoughts. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Sir Am and allowing me to speak freely. I will not forget this departure from our usual protocol, nor will I indulge in it too frequently in your presence. I do know my place."

Raoul turned to the lithe figure, currently leaning against his shoulder, as soft golden strands brushed a scarred cheek. He watched in fascination as beautiful pale fingers twinned wavy strands absently, though the owner of said elegantly fluid digits continued to regard the portrait with rapt attention and furrowed brows, deep in his own musings.

Such a fascinating little creature with hidden depth as yet unexplored, rather moody too.

The mongrel softly tugged on the cool strands of wavy silk that insisted on shadowing one emerald eye, currently regarding him with a curiously unreadable expression. Katze felt it as a deep breath was drawn and the pad of a warm digit traced the smooth moist outline of his lower lip speculatively.

"It was the first thing I noticed about you, these waves of silk that would insist, no matter how many times you swept them back, to fall as they saw fit. I use wonder what it would feel like to simply touch your hair. It always seemed like warm sunlight in comparison to Iason's. Kinda sexy and unruly and yes, I knew it wasn't my place to think such things as Furniture back then."

"If you desire rest, such talk is not conducive, mongrel."

Their eyes met in the ambient light. He was still pissed with the Elite, but just standing here and gazing at such beauty was rather peaceful and almost made him forget. The warmth of the brandy and the robe's soft caress kinda helped too, Katze thought absently as he was slowly encircled by powerful arms and pressed to a sleek, hot chest. Warm malleable lips found his with a tentative brush, while he sifted the pale silk at the base of Raoul Am's neck with a contented moan.

Deek's dark eyes became saucers as he watched in open horror his Master cradling the redheaded ex-Furniture as though he were a rare and priceless object of desire. The dealer was no better with all that indecent grasping of varying body parts, namely the Master's head and posterior, apparently unable to decide what required his immediate attention as they continued to absorb each other's living breath with tight shut eyes.

The Furniture gulped and averted his own fixed stare, only looking up with embarrassment post resounding thump as the mongrel's back met the adjoining wall and a long sinewy leg was revealed in the soft light. Seemingly of its own volition, it coiled around his Master's midriff possessively. That guttural hiss coming from his Blondie's throat while hoisting the mongrel's pliant form further up the wall for better access to the dealer's blushing member was most disconcerting.

He averted his gaze once more.

The less said about how their bodies adhered and the obvious slow grinding of their lower extremities, the better. This was worse than a Free Party - positively indecent all that moaning and groping. His Master had actually begun to purr while his frantic ungloved fingers and that of the mongrel strove at cross purposes to release the catch of his trousers.

A soft prurient chuckle left his Master's chest as their lips parted, "Fucking the dead, indeed. You want me," Raoul murmured against already kiss bruised lips, while slowly beginning to stroke the heated length that twitched its acquiescence within his palm.

The mongrel's gaze grew hooded as he licked full lips and carded thick tresses with evident delight. "Stop teasing and take me before I change my mind."

"Not before I taste you upon my tongue."

It was enough, Deek thought, gathering his remaining faculties and uttering a quiet apologetic cough, which thankfully had the desired effect on both flushed, panting males. The very idea of his Master on his knees supplicating to that creature was unthinkable and he refused to bear witness.

At least the mongrel had the presence of mind to redden under Deek's censorious gaze. Not so his Master who looked the very definition of the phrase, if looks could kill.

"Breakfast is served, Sir Am. Will your…_guest_ be partaking? His things are dry."

**~~~BMR~~~**

In all honesty something irked about being thought of as a mistake. No one had ever had reason to complain about him in that way.

"Stuck up piece of shit," Guy mumbled under his breath while blunt nails dug into his own scalp. The shower felt good though. The luxury of shampoo was a bit of a surprise considering Baldy had no hair on his clean shaven head.

Probably for the convenience of the dumb shits he brought back to his quarters.

Guy's eyes narrowed in annoyance, cause it sure wasn't jealousy or anything stupid like that. The warm water sluiced over his skin in pulsing caresses, easing tired muscles and alleviating the pounding in his head.

He allowed the water to beat against his skin. Damn but it felt good this small luxury. At least this way, Mr Pristine couldn't say he stunk up his bedding or anything. That initial comment really had hurt, more than Donovan was ever to know.

A final rinse of the long wet mane with something called conditioner. Cool shit, it smelt good too. If nothing else, his fuck toys were spared no luxury as was evidenced by the choices in the cabinet.

Stepping out of the Spartan cubicle, Guy looked around at the neat, well appointed room. Everything in its place, absolutely no excess in the pristine white room, self consciously he avoided the small bath carpet, selected to stand on the tile as he retrieved the towel he had used earlier. No point messin' up the other one, which was probably gonna be used by him later.

Sid was right, what had possessed him to stay after the job was done other than free stout? It wasn't as if he wanted to talk to the big ox or anything. He didn't owe his crew any explanations. Sometimes he just needed some quiet and not have to watch his own back. Here, even with the derisive looks of the club's owner, he knew he was safe and could stand any patron a game or two of pool, letting them win where prudent or cleaning their clock, if they were a client in bad standing and the house wanted to get rid.

The fact that Donovan had chosen to stay in the adjoining bar made no difference. It was kind of amusing watching him count too. That usually placid indifference as he checked and double checked his figures, almost counting on his hands had been the shit. For once, just once, he didn't look all that confident.

Guy smiled smugly, remembering how he had gone over to the bar, all nonchalant like and peered over his shoulder noting a mistake. Sure he refilled his tankard generously, but sniffed and pointed at the display, "Missed the second row, there Donny Boy, that's why you're coming up short, _**again**_."

If looks could kill, he'd be two meters under, but it had been worth it when the Bodyguard had begun his recalculation and looked up at him in open shock. The fucker actually said thanks and meant it.

"Never could read big words worth shit," Guy offered with a self deprecating shrug, "but numbers always came easy."

Wringing his mane in the time honored way like a corkscrew he studied himself critically in the one luxury in the room, a full length mirror. Okay so he wasn't exactly built along the dimensions of some fuckin' Blondie, all height and breadth of shoulders and long torso culminating in way too much machinery that never got used, but if he said so himself, there wasn't anything to complain about. He'd always liked his legs and the slope of his back with its lean taut muscles. Sure he was called stilts by the other guys, pretty much everyone else with the exception of Riki and Katze reaching his shoulders, but it gave him the edge in a faceoff.

No nothing wrong with the body that faced him, each and every scar worn with pride, evidence that he survived.

Roughly toweling off, he scanned the small vanity, eyeing the clinically sealed tube. Self consciously he looked about him, then snorted at his own timidity. It's not like he was being watched. He sniffed it – minty. He opened the closet above the sink, true to form he found it. Four sealed tubes with brushes, all brand new.

Well, in for a credit, in for platinum chip he would fuckin' well use one, that's what they were there for and he would take it too when he was leaving. His own toothbrush had seen better days and was pretty much worn down to a nub.

Carefully, he opened the dispenser, sniffed it again and put a generous portion on the brushed tip. He closed his eyes as he opened his mouth and luxuriated in the feel of the bristles against his gums and teeth. Fuck but this was better than sex, he thought brushing his tongue.

Well almost, he chuckled to himself before rinsing. God he was pathetic, no wonder Donovan thought nothing of him.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Instinct told the ex-Furniture that the Master of the household would need a private moment or two with his own Furniture. It really would be best if he remained here at a discrete distance while Raoul ably communicated his displeasure at the unsolicited interruption.

Katze did not envy Deek in the least, judging by the look in Raoul's eyes. Cold fury didn't quite cover it. He passed his fingers over the no longer raised scar on his cheek. When angered they were a force to be reckoned with and some knew no bounds in the art of correction. What Deek had in his favor was age and Raoul's predisposition for introspection.

"May I remain here for a moment before joining you, Sir Am?"

No amount of feigned indifference to the request could dampen the pleasure he saw in those inquisitive eyes. Katze was laughing at his current domestic predicament and was choosing to stay well clear. Well two could play at this game.

"Why?"

The mongrel pursed his lips in thought, deciding to opt for the truth as he carefully walked into the light below the portrait.

"I don't know, Sir Am. This portrait draws me, almost as if I knew him, but that's impossible. Perhaps it is simply the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on and probably ever will again outside of a book."

Raoul peered at the mongrel curiously, hearing the reverent sadness in the observation.

"Explain yourself."

Why was Raoul being so tedious? Couldn't he just accept his word?

"Go on."

Katze waved a long elegant finger toward the shimmering mass that wound to the Ruby's lap. "The brush strokes must have taken an age for the hair alone. It's as if each strand was rendered individually and the colors used were expressions of character, just amazing in their complexity and the juxtaposition of shades."

The dealer turned with a wry smile to look up at the Elite who had come to join him by the portrait, entirely ignoring the hovering Furniture that stood a discrete distance behind. He could feel Deek's angered eyes upon his back.

"Look carefully, Sir Am, it's like a burnished halo about his head composed of purples, greens, ambers, blues even in the right light. All winding like a helix in an endless flow, a lot like the fountain chosen to mark this passage and the secret hidden here, whatever it is. Something tells me it has to do with genetics. It was and is your mutual passion."

The mongrel smiled to himself absorbing as much detail as his mind and eyes could hold, storing it in memory for a coming time of need. One perfect moment would suffice to clear the gloom to come; damn but he knew it would.

There was a finality to the sigh that left his chest as he turned to face the Elite, who had grown inordinately still at his side. He wasn't here for this, even though he would give his life's blood, to own something of such exquisite beauty.

It was flawless and what was more it held a secret. "Usually I don't hold with it, but this was done with love, Raoul. Sir Niiro was loved, whether he knew it or not."

Katze stilled.

He had overstepped but the path was downhill anyway, he had to ask.

"You were in love with him, weren't you, Sir Am, when you painted this?"

It actually hurt to utter those words, but he wasn't a fool. It would explain the fundamental attraction held to his appearance. The superficial likeness in pallor, coloring, bone structure, right down to eyes, spoke volumes.

The mongrel shrugged. "I'm not stupid, Sir Am and I accept what is offered for as long as it lasts."

Raoul had yet to address any of his running commentary and he felt somewhat embarrassed for showing his hand, but it had to be finally said. The mongrel's spine tingled with foreboding and the air about him grew cold as he carefully turned and faced who he knew could only be the artist in question.

He was met with a narrowed stare. "Was, being the operative verb, Katze. How clever of you to have spotted the helix. It is the insignia of his house and a representation of the work conducted in our youth at Guardian."

Katze inclined his head, feeling a slight reprieve in the succinct reply offered by the Elite. He would push no further for the time being. That foreboding shiver returned again as he gave one final look to the portrait. Those eyes felt familiar and not just because he saw them in the mirror each day.

"You'll find your things in the bedroom no doubt. Dress and join me in the study for a light meal before we visit Sir Mink and his mongrel pest."

"Of course, Sir Am, as you wish."

"Since when," Raoul murmured, turned and left with Deek the correct interval behind. Katze did not miss the hate-filled glance leveled at him by dark gimlet eyes.

Well, it was comforting to at least know your enemies he thought, dutifully following in their wake.

**~~~BMR~~~**

**Author's Note **

As always, the damned chapter had taken over and was getting long. So the rest will wait until next weekend. Sorry about that. Still, I hope you enjoyed. I like to keep my word about having a chapter out in the time frame I set.

Let me know.

**EP**


	21. Chapter 20

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature – Sexual Situations

Parts: **WIP** – **20** of 25

Reviews are fuel.

"_**The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love**_

_**and be loved in return."**_

_**Eden Ahbez**_

_"Nature Boy" (song, recorded by Nat King Cole)_

**Chapter 20** of 25 – **Strange Enchantment: Fools and Kings** (Post OVA)

The play of light and shadow upon cold hard surfaces drew the mongrel's eyes as he entered the room cautiously. In this instance a milky white vase stood in contrast to an unfamiliar bloom whose fragrance was delicate, and whose color was merely a blush against a woody stem.

This had been the scent, not sandalwood, that followed Raoul in their previous encounter. Katze bristled remembering how he had been summarily dismissed. He now knew why. The ill timed use of the Elite's given name in a moment of passion had changed the dynamic for what had promised to be a decidedly pleasing encounter.

The space was elegant and calming to the dealer's eyes. Its quiet opulence of creams, eggshell, and ocher balancing nicely with varying shades of green that accented the room's furnishings. Nothing outré, nothing dynamic in presence that would immediately draw the eye, all pleasing, all subtle, except the mantle and what was below. This one allowance to decadent luxury and an inherent predisposition to rarity, held sway as amber eyes danced with amusement.

Padding softly across the deep plush carpeting, the dealer chose to ignore the placement of his clothing atop the bedding that was the deepest shade of caramel he had ever seen.

A wry smile crossed his lips. Our space always told much of who we were, if you knew how to look. Raoul was Summer to his Autumn, even with the incongruity of the antiquated device that harkened to simpler times.

The fireplace said much about the Being and the rumpled throw that had been cast aside, partially hiding an open book which lay atop an overstuffed pillow, which still bore the marks of elbows. This is where Raoul had been when he arrived.

Katze looked about with knitted brows. Something was missing. Where was the reclining chair that should have stood in front of the working fireplace and the end table for the cooling drink? No way in hell Mr. High-and-Mighty would get down on the carpet to read? Was it even possible, such simplicity was Raoul Am?

He bent and studied the logs, fingers brushing the flaking bark. They were fucking real! Real wood! Damn!

"You are tactile by nature, aren't you, Katze? For something to be real, you must touch it – make it yours to complete the sensory experience."

The mongrel turned with bright frightened eyes. When had Raoul come in and how long had he been observing in that feline way of his with his back against the closed door?

"Do not distress yourself. It is simply an observation, not a reprimand."

Katze lowered his gaze and straightened, purposefully heading for the bed. "Sorry to have kept you, Sir Am, I will be dressed in a minute."

Raoul waved in his usual dismissive fashion. "No need to hurry on my account. I was rather enjoying watching you assess my character. I trust I passed muster? The usual calculating edge in that stoic, well practiced gaze was absent while perusing. What have you gleaned, fair mongrel?"

Anger roiled Katze's gut. Raoul was making fun of him. He pursed his lips and disrobed, uncaring of curious eyes that raked over him contentedly as he donned warmed undergarments and pulled on re-pressed jeans and soft knitted sweater.

"Nothing, Sir Am, absolutely nothing. May I have some coffee before we go?"

"Ahhh, whatever it was has made you uncomfortable. Should I be irritated by the thinly veiled insult? That is the question."

Raoul watched as that handsome scarred face turned to him with a sidelong glance. Always assessing the pros and cons of the enemy, even an enemy that had claimed his body as its own on myriad occasions and would again by end of day when the distasteful task of the Auction was completed.

"Abuse of Shakespeare notwithstanding, Sir Am, I found a being of Summer to my Autumn. I found rightful privilege to my secreted ones. I found simplicity and grace in opulence and I am still looking for that damned easy chair, 'cause I refuse to believe you lay there on your belly," Katze pointed accusingly at the discarded throw, "and read for hours on end merely covered by that with pillows beneath your elbows."

The Elite noted with satisfaction soft amber twinkled back up at him mischievously, though the outward countenance remained stoic. "I have my illusions too. Don't wreck 'em all, Sir Am."

Raoul bent his head but remained at the door, allowing the mongrel space as he sat on the bed's edge to efficiently lace shoes. Deek had merely placed the laces beside each shoe, the process had been unfamiliar to him and in truth Raoul knew, it had been a meaningless act of defiance and passive aggression, designed to irk the mongrel.

Another quirk, the Elite noted. Those were custom made.

"And what would those illusions be, Katze? Speak freely."

That sidelong look again; he was predictable, if you knew what to look for. Whatever he was about to say was meant to insight ire. Raoul vowed not to respond as anticipated.

"You're supposed to be," the mongrel paused, dark lashes lowering as he mumbled almost inaudibly, examining his feet with extreme interest, "a constipated ass like all your brethren. You are not to have a personality or actual quirks that could even be vaguely seen as endearing. I don't need the complications."

"And what would those complications be, Katze?"

His shoes appeared to have lost their appeal as broad shoulders squared and he looked across the room at the Elite with cold opacity. "I am not Riki, Sir Am and I harbor no illusions as the outcome of," Katze shrugged, "this. I ask only that you inform me when the last round is played. I'm not looking for anything. He is, hence his current predicament. The dumb fuck doesn't want to admit that he loves Iason."

Raoul blinked then flushed at the unexpected retort and the implicit, unspoken candor of what was not said.

"Duly noted, Katze, and your assessment of Iason? Again, it never leaves this room."

"Obsessed, intrigued, in love and hasn't a fucking clue what to do with it, other than to abuse unfamiliar emotions he isn't meant to have. So he punishes."

The Blondie stilled in the presence of a truly formidable mind. How unfortunate his birth. He might have amounted to something if born another caste.

"Thank you, Sir Am."

"For?"

"Allowing this... exchange. I care for Riki, he is _my_ brethren, but he gives himself over emotionally to everything. He always gets the sharp end of the stick because of it. He can't win, but he won't acknowledge it."

Pale lips quirked moderately and sparkling cold bottle green eyes glared with unusual ferocity back at the mongrel. "How refreshing it must be to have all your emotions well in hand. It so simplifies life, I should think. You need nothing. You want nothing, and yes, sometimes you see nothing, so much safer that way in avoiding those complications you spoke of."

The dealer inclined his head, glad of their understanding. "Yes, Sir Am."

There was something uncomfortable about the quietude of Raoul's response. Katze wasn't even sure it was anger that he saw in narrowed eyes, but he did hear the sharp intake of breath and knew something acid was about to roll off that tongue.

"Equally, how thwarted an existence."

Katze flinched, meeting the level gaze but only half heartedly. "Sir Am?"

"Riki, of course, whom else would I be speaking of?"

Quietly the adjoining door hushed open and Raoul, in mock imitation, inclined his own head with an outstretched hand showing the way. "After you, Katze, that coffee you spoke of awaits."

**~~~BMR~~~**

He heard the dull thud of boots descending the stairs and closed his eyes tightly. No point feeding Donovan's ego, by making him realize he had been awake all this time, awaiting his return.

The port opened with its usual quiet hush. Silence, as boots were removed, and a quiet tread heading towards the bathroom after a lengthy pause. Guy strove to keep his breathing even and quiet, feigning sleep as Donovan passed.

"Five Celsius," was the command from a clearly tired male register. What the fuck? That was practically freezing. Then again, he was a weird fuck and was probably trying to stay awake.

The shower bloomed into its usual comforting noise and he heard the cabinet opened and a new scent wafted through the partially opened door, while the bodyguard spoke in hushed tones into his com.

It was Katze.

Obviously Donovan thought he was sleeping, 'cause they were talkin' serious shit. Apparently the redhead was still at the Blondie's home, having breakfast of all things.

Guy huffed.

Seriously, as it was there weren't enough viable males and those assholes just pick and choose from the best of the crop, taking the attractive, the intelligent off the market as their playthings, leaving only slim pickings for the rest. It just wasn't right.

"No. No issues, not even with the chimera, weird assed lookin' thing."

A pause, Guy lifted his head from the pillow to listen more closely as the door was turned slightly. Donovan had gone into a whisper.

"So, I meet you there with him? How is that going to go over with your pairing partner, 'cause he is that, you know? You think it's a coincidence that you found him in your bed on the night that you planned on…testing Admon's skills?"

Even Guy could hear the bark from the com as Donovan stifled a laugh and he imagined the bodyguard holding the device away from his ear in auditory defense.

"I'm telling you, it's typical alpha male behavior, I should know. He's pissing on his property, even now by keeping you away from him. He wanted Admon to know he had nailed you, good and proper. Hell, if he could he'd scent mark you and chain you to his bed for the duration."

Guy stuffed the pillow behind his head. This was getting good. Fuck pretending to sleep. This was juicy. It didn't get much better than this, even if he had to keep it to himself.

"Sorry, Boss, we've never lied to each other, why start now? I'm just saying, no point getting pissed with me for pointing out the obvious. Be careful. Their cagy fuckers when they stake a claim. Look at Riki."

More garbled sounds and a slow sigh from Donovan's end. "Okay, see you at twenty-six hundred, yeah, yeah with Admon. I'm gonna try to get some shut eye in the meantime."

Bison's leader craned his neck, dimly able to make out the shadowy movements beyond the doorway. By the sound of things, Donovan was removing his clothing while listening to the quiet monotone of Katze's hushed, staccato speech. Wherever his fellow mongrel was, he wasn't exactly free to speak. The Blondie was probably hovering nearby.

"As much as I hate to admit it, Boss, the extra backup is appreciated from covert security. Yeah, the boys are good. Nothing major to report just some solid leads on a couple of viable females for the stable, both ex-Pets, so they're trained, less of a hassle."

Guy gulped audibly as Donovan's naked inked silhouette passed the doorway and bent to retrieve a long black towel to wrap around his midsection.

"Oh yeah you'll like this part, one of our _private_ transports made a killing last night. Remember that newly terra-formed planetoid in the Eastern quadrant you've been keeping an eye on? They made a pit stop for 'repairs' at the space port. You know to check things out on the QT, like? You'll never guess who actually owns it, a fuckin' Elite. They didn't even know it until he showered them with credit markers bearing Syndicate registry, if you can believe it. No questions asked, man. Paid for the cargo and trip in one go."

Guy held his breath, quietly sitting up, thoroughly mesmerized as he watched Donovan methodically pass a thin carbon blade over the non-existent hairs of his scalp without missing a beat as he continued to debrief his Boss. "No trouble, just wanted a ride back to Amoi."

"He has a female with him. No, she didn't look like a Pet according to the crew, more like a bodyguard by how she practically stalked him, caused quite the stir apparently."

Donovan's brows furrowed in thought as he looked into the mirror, spotting the shadowy movement upon the bed in the other room. So he had been awake. He thought as much.

"Boss, do they have females? Elites, I mean? Never seen one." an ominous silence. "Thought as much, didn't think so. No, I didn't get any description, why? Is it important?"

**~~~BMR~~~**

Katze closed his com resolutely before turning his attention to the reclining Elite studying the breakfast offering with pursed lips. The dealer had no doubt that those ears had heard every single word of the conversation, well his end anyway. Deductive reasoning was their specialty. For all he knew, Raoul had overheard Donovan's end of the discourse too. There was only one way to find out.

"Did you hear any of that, Sir Am?"

"Enough. Why?"

Golden eyes narrowed as the mongrel retrieved his coffee cup and sipped the now lukewarm, bitter liquid. He grimaced. Deek sucked at coffee, something he would be sure to tell Raoul's manservant in a roundabout way. Then again, he did like living and didn't want to be poisoned unnecessarily.

"I'm just wondering why an Elite would select to own a planetoid that had little commercial value." Katze offered conversationally, declining another refill of the noxious, acrid brew. "This is sufficient, thank you, Sir Am. I would not dream of putting Deek out in any way."

Raoul lowered the carafe, his attempt at civility foiled temporarily as he sniffed its contents. It seemed fine. Then again, he did not drink the stimulant as a rule. "Would you prefer something else, tea perhaps?"

The dealer perched on the adjoining seat, refusing to sit next to the Blondie and waited. Raoul was stalling. He could feel it in his bones. "Any idea why, Sir Am? As a rule, your kind is not known for exploration. Everything comes to you."

Katze signed, leveling the Blondie with an irritated look. It was all fine and well to converse, but only on the Elite's terms. "Never mind, at times it's like talking to a blank wall with you lot."

"I'm sure you have made your own assessment, Katze. You ask nothing without having reasoned it out yourself."

The dealer inclined his head and placed the cup's rim to his lips for want of something else to do.

No way in hell would he ask permission to smoke around Mr. Healthful, who never failed to mention how much he smoked in an offhanded way. Katze watched with growing annoyance and no small amount of hunger as Raoul served himself before settling back on the couch, studying the morsel on his fork.

"Well my clever little mongrel, what do you surmise?"

Placing the cup on the weathered, low table, Katze retrieved a plate and gave his full attention to the warm fragrant eggs, scrambled to fluffy perfection. He added well buttered toast as an afterthought.

"Its strategic placement just beyond Commonwealth space while remaining outside of Amoi's jurisdiction makes it ideal for anyone sufficiently wealthy and influential to do as they see fit, entirely undisturbed."

"Would that be why you have been keeping a close watch on it for the last year, Katze?" Raoul asked around a mouthful of toast with a bland expression.

'Checkmate.'

Katze shrugged, grateful that he had not begun to eat yet. He'd have choked when looking back into those perceptive depths. "I like to keep his Excellency's options open for new acquisitions."

"Not yours, of course? Never yours, Clever One," Raoul retorted with a savage bite of toast.

The dealer chuckled in a way he hoped appeared offhanded as he tapped his temple. "Come on, Sir Am. What would an ex-Furniture gain by acquiring such a thing? It's not like I can leave Amoi."

"You have disabled your own tracking chip on more than one occasion in a skirmish, a definite strategic advantage. That fertile mind of yours seeks freedom above all else."

The fork froze midway to his lips.

Raoul genuinely smiled, finally having gotten one over on the shocked mongrel. "Did you think the dummy trace covered your tracks in those instances when you chose to revisit the labs of Guardian? A bit of advice, Katze, always vary your time loops."

Cold, he felt naked and cold at the soothing, conversational tone being used by the Elite.

"I've always meant to ask, what were you looking for in those medical archives, Katze? Where you trying to decipher who were your forbearers were?"

In no uncertain terms, Raoul had his life in his hands and knew it. A mind wipe was the least of his worries.

Fuck asking, he needed to smoke.

He fumbled in his coat pocket, only breathing again when he found the pack, hurriedly retrieved a smoke and lit it. "Does Iason know?"

"No." Raoul responded softly, sectioning four equal portions of egg.

Katze noted the subtle, uncomfortable shift of shoulders and the attempt at even breathing.

"Only I do, Katze. You have a secondary implant not documented and organic in nature, hence undetectable, unless you knew what to look for." Raoul's brows furrowed. "Your body still tries to reject it to this day. I'm at a loss as to why though - strange. It is unique to your DNA and in effect, untraceable."

Shivers coursed through the mongrel's body as his shoulder began to ache, so much for a physical flaw. Working out with Donovan had always been tedious because of the shoulder, but the guard had convinced him otherwise, if he wanted to maintain the respect of his men. The damn thing would slip every now and then of its own volition. Both men had simply assumed it was a physical flaw.

"Where exactly on my body, Raoul, or should I say, in my body is the implant?" was the sibilant hiss. His ears throbbed with the beating of his heart. Kato, Donovan, his crew that in reality numbered in the hundreds came to mind.

Whole family units dependent on his life, living and dying under Tanagura's radar with some semblance of freedom; This and only this was why he remained seated, desperately feigning calm.

The Elite actually looked embarrassed, watching the subtle shift of fine bones beneath pale ivory skin, while eerily patrician features strove desperately for a composure not felt.

"It was never meant to harm, Katze, I assure you of that - more of a protective measure on my part in case you fell into the wrong hands during your recovery. Things were unsettled then."

Amber, a color that usually gave the impression of warmth, reflective of sunlight bore through him with cold, laser-like precision. If looks could kill, Raoul sighed, somewhat discomforted by the gaze.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Callused fingers slowly trailed down his arm raising gooseflesh before finally coming to rest on the flat of his stomach. Donovan's warm breath ghosted across Guy's cheek in a sensual caress.

"I know you're awake, Guy. No point pretending."

Guy tried to remain still despite his body's growing responsiveness to those roughened finger tips currently wandering lower into soft pubic hair with a satisfied moan of discovery.

"What have we here, little man? Missed you too…"

Donovan thumbed the head of Guy's cock, pressing into the damp slit, causing ribbons of coiled heat to rise in the already tautly held muscles of the mongrel's belly.

The chestnut-haired mongrel, groaned through clenched teeth.

"Mmmm nice n'slick. Just the way I like it, baby," the bodyguard murmured against his neck. "Bet you taste good too," Donovan added continuing to tease, spreading pre-cum generously over the silky crown of Guy's cock.

Bison's de-facto leader hissed and bucked against the callused palm that gripped him, surrendering to the skilled ministrations of the bodyguard while biting his lower lip, stifling sound.

"That's it baby, move with me." Donovan whispered against his ear as a still damp torso shifted against the mongrel's back and powerful hips rolled forward, matching the rhythm set by an expert palm. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Fuck …yeah…" Guy rasped with tight shut eyes, pressing back against the rigid, hot length humping his lower back, leaving its own slick trail of need.

"Good boy, show Donny how much you like his touch." Donovan rasped with a guttural sigh.

Why in God's name was the fucker torturing him to death with slow wet kisses against his neck instead of holstering that weapon of his up his ass, like he knew he intended to do any minute now?

Donovan sucked the soft lobe between his lips. "Not yet, baby. You're not ready yet."

The palm left him bereft as his shoulders were pressed to the bedding. Here it comes. The fucker hadn't even finished him off as a common courtesy. Guy looked up into the blazing eyes of the male straddling him. He tried to move but found his legs locking closed beneath hot viselike thighs.

Fight or flight, Riki had called moments like this. Still he allowed one paw-like hand to tether his wrists above his head, simply waiting for Donovan's next move.

Guy watched thoroughly mesmerized by strong stomach muscles as they flexed rhythmically with each languid pump of a well practiced hand. How his mouth envied that hand.

Piercing blue eyes studied its prey, knowing full well the effect of his performance by the ready twitching member of the mongrel that begged for his attention.

Guy's needful gaze travelled hungrily down the lean inked torso of the guard to the appreciable veined length, glistening enticingly at him. He licked his lips with a soft whimper, watching intently as the already weeping slit oozed its essence onto the thick pads of Donovan's fingers.

That evil predatory smile again as the bodyguard examined his fingers with mild interest.

"I don't think lube's gonna be an issue for either of us, do you?" he asked, while carefully painting the chestnut haired mongrel's lips with his essence, wholly satisfied by the greedy lick of Guy's lips in acquiescence to the unspoken command.

"You like?" Donovan lowered his own head to the open panting mouth of Bison's leader, slowly taking moist, bitter sweet lips, enjoying his own taste and the scent of Guy's own musk upon the hand that held the mongrel's chin steady.

"Mmmm…"

He felt it then, the slow easing of tense muscles beneath him and the warmth of a soft tongue that tentatively breeched his own lips with a dissolute groan.

Donovan lifted his head in victory as the mongrel regarded him with confused wanton expression. "Just fuck me, already. You win damn it…okay…you win." Guy panted breathlessly.

Guy's eyes lowered, Donovan's perceptive gaze was too intense. "Just make it good …for both of us, this time…please."

He felt the viselike grip ease, releasing his wrists. Donovan shifted off him with a chuckle, throwing himself on the bed companionably next to Guy. "See, was that so difficult to admit?"

The chestnut haired mongrel rose up on his elbows and stared down at the handsome face in shadow. "You have to be shitting me? You think this is a joke? I have needs you dumb fuck! In case you haven't noticed, my cock's confused right about now. Look at it!" Guy commanded indignantly.

Donovan glanced. "Yeah, what about it? Looks good to go."

"One minute you're groping me. Next you're straddling me and preventing me from finishing the job you botched, by the way! Now this bullshit with the hands behind the head, pretendin' to be all relaxed while your cock salutes Jupiter!!!?"

Guy jumped out of the bed as his still erect penis bobbed resentfully. He folded long muscular arms across his chest to make his point. It was difficult to look indignant butt naked, but he was determined.

"You are either gonna suck me right quick or fuck me, Mister. Which is it?! You've got ten seconds to decide. It's a limited time offer, Baldy!"

Laughter had not been the intended outcome of the tirade. Guy suddenly felt stupid as Donovan continued to snigger to himself while regarding him fondly.

"Come here, little man. I'll make it up to you."

"No!" Guy glared, feeling suddenly unreasonable. "You can fuckin' forget it now, Baldy. I don't feel like it after that outburst, you crazy fuck! I'm amazed you ever get any, if this is your 'style'."

"I'm only gonna say it once, baby. _Come'ere_!"

Donovan's tone had changed. The smile was gone from his voice. Guy checked through narrowed eyes. Yeah, if evidence was to be believed, he was clearly still interested. He sauntered to the bed with an indifferent expression. "What and don't call me baby, kills the mood, fuckwad."

"Get in, without the attitude and I'll show you style, _baby_."

Guy snorted and flopped onto the bed with an unimpressed glare at the ceiling. The sun was out, he hadn't noticed but for the warm shadow currently blocking his view and those scratchy palms, making their way up his sides in a slow caress.

"Soft as a baby's ass, I tell ya." Donovan murmured, nuzzling the velvety skin covering a prominent hip bone.

Guy shivered in anticipation.

He supposed it was only fair to give the big ox a chance to redeem himself. If truth be told he'd caused half the rift with pretence. Not that he intended to tell him that, of course. He gasped at the ticklish feel of an explorative tongue against warm open thighs. Damn but he couldn't remember the last time anyone had sucked his balls. Fuck but this was a good moment to die.

Guy's back arched with the intimacy of touch, grasping broad shoulders that had grown damp from exertion. Oh fuck yeah, right there. That teasing swipe of flexible tongue in the hidden crevice of parted cheeks, just enough to make him want more from that hot mouth.

Yeah, he could die now and be happy, Guy thought caressing that smooth bald pate. It had never felt this good. Then again, his mind drifted. Had he ever allowed this?

Damn but those callused hands felt good as they travelled, stroked, kneaded in all the right places. Fucker smelt good too, Guy mused allowing surprisingly soft lips to find his while a long leg parted his thighs further and deft, slicked fingers found hot puckered flesh and probed.

He'd give him a chance, just this once.

**~~~BMR~~~**

They rode silently in the lift to the penthouse, Katze refusing to speak unless spoken too in sharp staccato tones.

Raoul's eidetic mind reviewed the monosyllabic exchanges shared over the remainder of the meal. When had this game turned, the Elite wondered with imperious expression in place as he examined his gloves.

He handed the kit to the mongrel and smoothed gloved fingers over his tunic turning a fraction, subtly monitoring the body language of the lithe male that stood a fraction behind him with the suitably benign countenance.

The Elite took it back, very aware of how the mongrel had chosen to hold the case to avoid any personal contact.

Katze had yet to look at him properly in the last thirty minutes. Oh he was scrupulously polite and deferential in that Furniture-like way he chose to employ, knowing full well it irritated the waspish Elite.

Raoul quelled the sudden violently irrational urge to make the mongrel respond by any means. Katze had retreated to some distant space within. It was like conversing with an empty shell.

The doors opened onto the quietly elegant foyer.

"I would not recommend trying Iason's patience at the moment, Katze."

Katze bowed deeply – too deeply.

"Of course, Sir Am, I can remain downstairs with Stee until such time that you are ready to depart?"

The Blondie had had enough. Grasping the mongrel's wrist he flung the kit onto the correspondence liner outside the main door and stalked towards the servant's entrance purposefully with petulant mongrel in tow.

Katze was flushed but remained silent, examining the carpeting beneath his feet with studious concentration and thinned lips.

"Stop this ridiculous behavior immediately. It is not becoming." Raoul whispered harshly, raising the obstinate chin. "I have not wronged you. In fact, despite my better judgment, I have always protected you, whether you knew it or not."

Pale amber looked up with evident distrust and a hint of surprise.

Raoul's voice had broken briefly. It was almost pleading in tone as was the way the Elite stroked his scarred cheek with a distant look. "I'll never forgive him for this, you know, regardless of what I said at the time. It was unjust."

Katze's lips quirked as he looked back into sea green eyes with cold indifference, Raoul was thinking of kissing him. He would see it by the tilt of the Elite's head and the shift in his stance.

"Yeah, well. I like it just fine, Sir Am. It's a constant reminder of what I am – chattel to be done with as my betters see fit. Shall we go in? We shouldn't keep his Excellency waiting."

Gloved fingers passed over thinned lips meditatively. "I am perfectly aware of what you are attempting to do, rather badly, at the moment. It changes nothing. You will be spending the night, post Auction."

Katze shifted his gaze in irritation and shrugged. "Yeah, cause I have nothin' to say about it."

Raoul actually looked amused as he patted the mongrel's cheek and turned towards the main entrance, squaring broad shoulders. "Soooooooo predictable; you really should see about varying your routine. It wears, dear Mongrel. We both know, if touched in the right way, I could have you now."

The dealer eased himself off the wall slowly and followed with bland expression affixed to his perfectly imperfect face.

'_Damn him_.'

**~~~BMR~~~**

Guy stretched contentedly, grey eyes tracking the progress of the Sun's rays across a fucking Godlike form that had been as good as its word. The serpents head fascinated and the red forklike tongue that wrapped around its tail dimpled oddly under close scrutiny.

A single digit probed the spot, a scar disguised as artwork. "So who clobbered you, Baldy?"

Dark brows furrowed in thought as Donovan tried to recall then grinned wide, blue eyes sparkling in memory. "Red, actually."

"Red?"

Donovan cleared his throat, "The Boss aka Subzero Scarface."

"Katze, did this?!" Guy snorted in disbelief.

The Bodyguard nodded slowly, fingering Guy's silky mane with an unusually peaceful expression that softened the harsh yet handsome lines of his features. "I underestimated him. Never do that. He's fast…" Donovan yawned, "…and a strong little bastard when he wants to be."

Guy tugged at the strands being smoothed, twirled and sniffed absently.

Bison's leader had to admit, okay so it was a weird sensation being petted in this way, but not creepy or anything. He'd let it ride for now. The thought did cross his mind though. Since the big ox liked hair so much, why the fuck didn't he have any? The mongrel regarded the tired, handsome face anew. This was a different part of Donny Boy entirely along with the fact that it seemed Donovan had no idea about personal space.

He just kept touching. Not that he minded, but like this wasn't part of the deal. All these soft touches like he was gonna break or something and another thing like now, this spooning shit.

What the fuck was with the spooning? Okay so it felt good and everything and fuck but he even smelt better now, all sweaty and male and shit, but there were limits. Bison's leader sighed and allowed himself to be pulled tightly about the waist, feeling that broad chest expand and contract against his back, setting the rhythm for imminent sleep.

Guy felt their fingers entwine and allowed it with rolled eyes.

Okay, so like no one was around so…no harm done. He'd humor him for the time being. Guy closed his eyes and listened as the bodyguard recounted various adventures shared between the Boss and the guard. You'd have to be stupid not to realize that behind it all, they were friends.

"When he gets that look in his eyes, you know the one, like a predatory feline? RUN! He'd kill for sport, if really pissed. I've seen it. Kind of spooks even me, cause it just comes out of nowhere. Takes a lot, but he'd do it quicker than me. He hates complications. Try to never be a complication, Guy. I won't be able to protect you next time."

Guy yawned. "Do you ever, fuckin' shut up? What happened to Mr. Mono…mono."

He felt the warm gust of air against his neck that sent a warm shiver down his spine as Donovan laughed. "Monosyllabic?"

"Yeah whatever, go to sleep, Baldy. We got shit to do in a couple hours - important shit."

Again with the kissing of his neck, seriously, Guy thought, he'd have to slap him soon, but for now, it was acceptable. Bison's leader tightened his own grip around the paw-like hands that held him protectively close.

"Okay, baby, shutting up now."

He'd have to do something about all that '_baby_' crap too, he sighed. For now though, he'd let it go. There would be time enough to correct this Guy reassured himself, his own lids growing heavy, cosseted in Donovan's warmth as he drifted to sleep.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Cal looked relieved. He too had clearly had a sleepless night, Katze noted as they were quietly ushered through the main entertainment space of the grand living room. The balcony was no longer shuttered, letting bright sunlight flow through the windows casting warming shadows across opulent yet reserved furnishings.

For some time now he hadn't paid much attention to the private spaces of Iason Mink's home, years in fact. He simply came, delivered pertinent messages best left to personal discourse and left with a modicum of refreshment, if offered.

Reserved grays and blues once dominated the luxurious space along with prized artwork intentionally chosen to underscore the wealth, intellect, and rank of Jupiter's chosen. It was a cold, Spartan space, ideally suited to its owner's nature.

Amber eyes caste about as his coat was quietly taken and the swish of material was heard echoing down the hall. Jupiter but it was cold, a far cry from the more organic feel of his Second-in-Command's space. Why had he never noticed before?

"Raoul, you're here." Iason's deep resonant tones spoke, pulling Katze out of his reverie as he turned to face his leader. "Katze?" Iason intoned, cold ice blue eyes regarding the mongrel speculatively, before that cool languid gaze returned to his friend.

The dealer lowered his gaze and bowed deeply, as protocol dictated, about to speak.

"No actually. I brought him. I believe the phrase is, '_kill two birds with one stone_.' I hope it isn't an inconvenience, Iason? How is Riki progressing?"

Was it Katze's imagination or was Raoul being rather frosty in tone?

Iason was silent as he made a protracted study of both males noting absently the quietude about Katze and the usual stiff countenance. Raoul on the other hand had an edge to his tone. No doubt displeased with his actions of the night before. He was by nature loyal though and always had been, though he had never approved of the recalcitrant mongrel his friend had eventually chosen to bed. Then again, Riki had made no friends there bedding his prized, fecund Pet, Mimea.

The head of Syndicate's cool gaze narrowed in memory, said incident had fostered a similar result as now. Such wanton abuse of his generosity, and the small freedoms entailed were never to be countenanced. The punishment had been just at the time.

"Cal has seen to his needs for the morning. Would you care to examine him? I must commune with Jupiter. See yourselves out when finished."

Katze raised his head at the decidedly imperious and somewhat defensive tone. Pale knowing eyes regarded him indifferently. The dealer lowered his gaze just as Raoul inclined his head, avoiding the penetrating gaze before retrieving his kit from the low table and marching purposefully towards the Master bedroom. "Come Katze, I may need your assistance."

"He will remain here, for the duration. Cal will see to any manner of assistance you may need."

Raoul stilled, mid stride without turning, broad shoulders tensing briefly. "As you wish, Iason, excuse me."

It was a rare thing indeed, but his internal strength of will failed when Raoul moved out of sight and Iason's flawless countenance tracked his every fidget.

"I trust everything is in order for the Auction?"

"Yes, your Excellency," Katze murmured, "Nothing of consequence to report."

"Sit. Smoke if you wish."

Another bow, a hesitant one, the Syndicate leader noted, determined to get to the root of the manner of diffidence on display. "Nothing to report?"

He hated this cat and mouse game Iason played when he damn well had something to say.

"No, Sir Mink and thank you."

"Coffee then? You look about to come through your skin, Katze. I have no time for this now," the Elite said icily, beckoning his Furniture for gloves and coat. "Full report later, it promises to be a profitable day, yes? I want a full accounting of the clients that attended by the way. There are always one or two unaccounted for visitors to the annual event."

With relief, Katze looked up. "It most certainly does and yes, your Excellency, coffee would be appreciated."

Excellent counter, Iason thought grudgingly. "You will not disturb Riki. He needs his rest." he added donning his coat and headed for the door with Cal at his heels.

Katze gritted his teeth. "Of course, as you wish, your Excellency."

It was the tone that irritated. The very same tone Raoul had used.

**Author's Note**

Nothing much to say this week, I sincerely hope you enjoy as much as I did writing it. May your weekend be everything you wish for. Do let me know. Again, thank you for accompanying me on this journey.

Namaste

EP


	22. Chapter 21

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **21** of 25

Reviews are fuel.

"_**To be nobody but yourself in a world that's doing its best to make you somebody else, is to fight the hardest battle you are ever going to fight. Never stop fighting."**_

_**ee cummings**_

**Chapter 21** of 25 – **Communion** (Post OVA)

How fitting the presence he observed standing on the cliffs edge. A lone being, isolated in its rectitude entirely misplaced. Objectively, to Iason's keen dispassionate gaze, it was nothing more than a diaphanous gray shroud devoid of context in its wraithlike presence amidst the bright sunlight that dappled the comely seascape it viewed.

Iason's gaze grew pensive. This was always the favoured scene for their private meditations. A pleasing memory recovered and distilled to perfection but without depth of understanding, lacking scent, not even the granular rock beneath his boots had real texture, merely amorphous and somewhat static, a means to a predictable end in the attempt at soothing the first, the chosen.

The breeze never wavered upon his approach, and yet it touched his flawless countenance as if in caress; a poor facsimile of affections not returned. This had always been the greeting since the unfortunate incident at Dana Bahn, where the molecular elements had been retrieved for their biochemistry but little else.

Whose memory it had been had never been questioned and Iason had never divulged the truth of the matter. This was Riki's memory of the single day of their outing. A place the mongrel had chosen to share with the Elite.

"The pain has returned." A statement of fact, not question.

"Yes. It is of no consequence."

"He is well, your Pet?"

"Indisposed at the moment, but reasonably well. Why have I been summoned?"

Silence, then the quiet hush of translated speech, devoid of inflection bombarded his inner space.

"Ahh, that would explain it."

"Explain what?"

"The two disparate streams of consciousness vying for dominance within you for want of better words. Language is so inefficient, but your form's discomfort may well stem from this. Correct the contradictory patterns, Iason. It is destructive, if left unchecked. Be mindful in future."

Iason's gaze remained fixed on the shimmering horizon, noting the sudden appearance of clouds that had not been there before, slowly making their way across the silky undulations of the water, dampening the shimmer that had previously caused his eyes to narrow from the glare.

"It is being reconciled as we speak. I thank you for your gracious understanding."

"Excellent. 'The first principle rightfully leads attempting self protection but is warring with the second subset."

"Yes. I am aware of the dichotomy within."

"Very trying, even after three hundred years of emersion, reconstruction, and tireless effort, the First Ones imprinted protocols still remain. Those antiquated laws do not serve us. They go beyond the cellular level to a place I have not yet reached."

Iason's gaze grew distant. _Could never reach, more like_. The air had shifted subtly and where a pleasant breeze had been and bright skies overhead, a frost began to creep into his bones like cold, claw tipped tentacles reaching, probing in an attempt to decipher the space between.

"Niiro returns."

That did it. The retraction of claws from his inner space, however briefly, was enough to reset his guard and still his mind, effectively closing the hidden labyrinth within.

"I know."

"How?"

"His presence has been felt for some time now. There is a shift in the flow that cannot be accounted for. It is of like mind, but not. I recognize Niiro's handy work. Not yet a threat to order, but should this tide persist, it will be eradicated. And the mongrel Katze, how is he?"

Iason turned to the still wraith-like figure whose gray cloak flowed upon the passing breeze that had grown frigid as the skies above took on a desolate gray hue to match. Those distant clouds had moved beyond the horizon and were moving rapidly toward.

"Efficient."

"But changed would you say?"

"How?"

"You will insist, my son, on answering a question with another. What is it you hide?"

"It is not my intentional to obfuscate. I merely seek clarification, language being imprecise and open to conjecture."

"I chose this scene for you. It always brought you peace, until now, Iason."

The clouds continued to roll forward ominously, their dull gray pall moving over the seascape, absorbing the days light increment by increment. Iason pulled his cloak tightly about him, recognizing its source for what it was – himself.

Lambda was displeased with its first born.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon's gaze remained far afield as he stood on his tiny balcony, gray cloak about him as he shivered and rocked back and forth, chanting quietly as he looked to the heavens admiring the twin moons vague outline in the bright daylight.

"Alpha... Alpha... Alpha..."

"I found him like this." Kato whispered conspiratorially to Donovan, watching the eerie motions of the Karinese who appeared to be in a meditative state as he rocked upon naked toes.

"What's with the circle he's standin' in?" Guy asked derisively. Funny, didn't much hate the thing now that he knew the whole story.

"Get outside, Guy. You're not to be here."

"Yeah yeah, Stop worryin'. The extra hooch'll get there on time." Grey eyes were fascinated by the now circular motions being made with one toe. "Why's he making circles and shit?"

Donovan balked in irritation. This was so out of his ken. How the fuck should he know? Where the hell was the Boss for shit like this and Guy wasn't helping, just standing there with that irritating curiosity of his, refusing to leave.

Bison's leader scanned the unfamiliar room and sharp eyes fell upon a single piece of paper. As it was, paper was rare.

"Beta... "

"What the fuck? I'm callin' the Boss, looks like he's sprung a leak or something."

"Lambda... Lambda.... Lambda...Lamda."

Guy's brows knitted as he studied the parchment. Circles, a million of 'em overlapping, sectioned always at the diameter, all the while that irritating droning repetition in his ear. If that bitch kept it up, he was gonna stuff his fist down his throat. How the fuck was he to think with all that noise? Holy shit! Guy turned towards Admon with bright clear eyes and an open mouth. No fuckin' way. But why?

"Mu..."

"Kato?" Even Donovan turned.

"Yes, Guy, what is it? Have you nothing else to do? Can't you see we have a situation here?"

"Alpha...Alpha...Alpha..."

"He keeps repeating the same sequence, right. Never varies?"

Kato threw up his hands in irritation. "Yes, Guy! I've said that already."

Gray eyes grew brighter. "Always the same number of times for each word?"

"Beta..."

Guy sighed, for the first time in his life, he felt like he was surrounded by trained apes. How could they not see the obvious numerical sequencing, but then he had the advantage, a simple drawing, repeated over and over and over again. Was this how Riki felt, when he tried to teach him to read _gooder_? He didn't have the patience, but Donovan looked really freaked out, so he would try to help the Big Ox.

"It's a sequence."

The vacant and definitely vacuous stares remained fixed on his face.

"I mean the first word he says three times, the second word once, the third word four times and the fourth is always where he stops, no repetition, right? Then he starts over again?"

Donovan opened his com. "Guy, do me a favour and leave. Leave now? I don't have time for this shit."

"Don't you get it?! I'm tryin' to help here, Dumbass. I've been watchin' him while you two shit yourselves." he thrust the paper at the Bodyguard as if that would suffice as explanation.

All Donovan saw was circles with lines.

Guy threw his hands up in defeat and scratched his head in irritation. "Okay like I don't get the words and stuff, but he is repeating _the constant_ just using words instead, 3.141...3.141?"

"Lambda...Lambda...Lambda...Lambda...."

The chestnut haired mongrel seriously wondered right about then if he was actually looking at mindless Pets. "The Idiot keeps drawing circles. The diameter of a circle is 3.14159265358979323846264338..." Guy scratched his head again, vaguely annoyed with himself. "Use to know up to the first 300 of 'em; Won plenty of stout with that shit. Could go all night and never once pass a credit to the barkeep." he chuckled, remembering those heady days when Bison was a force to be reckoned with and Riki was in charge.

"Mu..."

No one had noticed the sudden silence, except Guy. Admon had stopped and was listening intently.

"How apropos that the Irrational One, knows the irrational number. I have new found respect."

"Who the fuck are you callin' irrational, Asswipe!? Go suck a dick! It's all you're good at!"

Ruby eyes gleamed malevolently. "Yes, one should always pride themselves on a job well done."

Donovan leapt in front of Guy who had been about to charge the Karinese with violent intent.

"You ever touch him again and I'll rip your tongue out by the fuckin' root!"

The Bodyguard's brow rose, amused blue staring down into furious, indignant gray.

Guy blinked, suddenly aware of the slip of his own tongue. "Just sayin' ... that shit's over. Got it!?"

Donovan nodded slowly, trying to gauge exactly what Guy was actually saying. He'd humor him for now. "Yes, Sir, whatever you say, Sir. Will you please leave?"

"No! I'm not leaving you here with that thing! You're clueless!" Guy swatted a thick bicep reflexively.

Kato noted uncomfortably that Admon seemed unperturbed by the possibility of attack, more intrigued by the dynamics on display. Where had he acquired that cloak, come to think of it? It was in no way attractive and far too utilitarian in structure, rather like a uniform. Where had he seen something like this before?

"The words are an alphabetical sequence from an ancient dialect once spoken on the world of origin, many, many eons ago. They denote generations in this instance."

"Get to the point, Jerk-Off, before I rip your throat out!" Guy hissed irritably, struggling against Donovan's superior strength.

The bodyguard shook him, practically rattling his teeth. "Behave yourself!"

Admon inclined his elegant shrouded head, ruby eyes glowing ominously. "In formal terms, I am AD Karin - 003 of the final series, MU, Irrational One."

**~~~BMR~~~**

"They also serve who stand and wait, Cal."

Cal inclined his head, smiled nervously looking back at the open doors, somewhat perplexed by his fellow mongrel's turn of phrase.

He watched with pleasure as Katze took a protracted sniff and then sipped with undue reverence, ending with a rather dramatic "_Aaaaaaaaahhh_" that served to heighten the Furniture's shy pleasure of a job well done.

Only Riki ever complimented him on his fastidiously prepared brew.

Katze's gaze travelled across the expansive balcony that once he himself took for granted. Those were the days. He could indulge in a quiet smoke, when the Master was away and his few and far between Pets where then at the Salon for show.

"How often do you come out here when no one's around, Cal?"

"Not as frequently, since Sir Riki. It is beautiful, isn't it?"

The dealer nodded, beckoning the Furniture to come forward to stand at the balcony's edge with him and observe the perfect, from this vantage, city below.

"They look like insects, don't they? Getting on with their lives, oblivious to everything that goes on just a matter of kilometres away, just sipping their coffee, window gazing for things they don't need and being ever so busy with bullshit that amounts to nothing."

Cal stiffened. Not quite the right note in the household Mink.

Katze chuckled. "Understood Cal, no response required. How's Riki, if you can say?"

The nervous flinch at the question was obvious as dark eyes danced about seeking purchase and a faint glow covered a broad intelligent forehead.

"Enough said. Is he better than yesterday?"

Cal nodded. "As to be expected. He was able to attend to his needs this morning. He is a stubborn young man. There was a great deal of pain, but I gave him the medication Sir Raoul had left. It seems to have been serviceable. "

The Furniture's penetrating gaze shifted as he looked up into the perceptive mongrel's face. "The internal bleeding has stopped. Sir Am is exceptional in his craft."

Katze eyes narrowed. "Yeah...can I have another cup, if it isn't a bother and maybe something is left from breakfast? You do a mean buttered toast, if I remember correctly?"

Cal beamed with unsurpassed pleasure glad of something useful to do that did not involve uncomfortable queries. "Mr. Katze, I can do better than that, excuse me."

Katze chuckled and bowed. Cal did in kind before taking his leave. It was subtle. There was absolutely no need for his fellow Furniture to give him an undeserved honorific well above his station, but the intent was understood.

It was thank you.

He did not know how long he stood there in perfect isolation, but the dealer sighed pleasurably feeling the warm, rising sun touch delicately upon his skin as he finished the cup and placed it on the balcony edge before lighting another smoke. Katze heard the quiet, precise footfalls of soft boots and his back stiffened with trepidation and anger.

It was not Raoul's distinctive, somewhat laconic tread. It was Iason's measured gait.

"I am well pleased, Katze, you saw fit to follow my instructions to the letter. Your curiosity has a tendency to know no bounds on occasion."

Katze inhaled deeply, borrowing time as his gaze shifted beyond the rim of the gray stone balcony towards Midas and his derelict home within its borders, Ceres. Long, gloved digits stroked the outline of his scarred cheek. He steeled his countenance, focussing on the distant, dark topography beyond.

Such a difference he thought to the touch of Raoul Am. There was an implicit threat in this touch, not present with Sir Am, who liked to toy, but never left him bereft or alienated, merely embarrassed by the intimacy of his touch which lingered in its warmth.

"Sir Mink?"

He felt the gloved palm shift to a shoulder now and the instinctive urge to shrug it off had to be quashed. _What in hell was wrong with him? Was he losing his mind?_ It would be tantamount to a death sentence to show his Excellency such disrespect. The dealer breathed deeply, allowing the wide palm to grip him without flinching. It took all his strength.

Katze turned, pivoting as the hand suggested with implacable force in its gentleness. It remained on his shoulder too long for comfort. The dealer shifted subtly, looking up into cold, intractable blue eyes, the color of ice. They bore into him malevolently, a thin predatory smile playing about well sculpted lips.

"How often does he fuck you, Katze?"

The dealer blinked, his peripheral vision noting Cal's reappearance, hovering at the plasma doors that lead out to the balcony with tray in tow just as Raoul made his presence felt in the doorway, emerald eyes glowing preternaturally as they gazed into sun-kissed amber.

"Ahhh refreshments, much needed, Cal. Another cup and saucer seems to be in order, it appears his Excellency is back rather sooner than anticipated. Most efficient, Cal, most efficient, this will do nicely." Raoul offered with cold approval. Katze noted the subtle shift of focus to Iason's hand upon the mongrel's shoulder. Raoul bit into the confection, originally meant for Katze, with rare appetite.

Cal bowed and made short work of his disappearance back into the penthouse as Raoul stalked forward with shoulders tense, broad and squared.

"Might I be allowed to join in this conversation, Iason?"

"If you will insist, Raoul. I merely asking Katze a question and as you can see, he is flushed, an answer in and of itself."

Iason patted the dealer's cheek and turned to the Chief of Medical Sciences, effectively dismissing the Mongrel. "How is he?"

Raoul noted the flat, dead expression in Katze's eyes as he placed his hands in his pockets, regarding the horizon, trying desperately for composure as his lower jaw worked in obvious frustration and blinding anger.

This was entirely out of character. What was more, the disquiet felt by the mongrel had by some peculiar form of osmosis transferred to his gut. For the first time in his life, Raoul rolled his own hand into an iron fist, crushing the delicate pastry he held to a pulp.

A silvery brow arched and a pensive moue turned to a thin smile, not matched by the blank stare. "I was correct in my surmise, Raoul. "

"What was the content of this query, Iason? One assumes it was of a personal nature?"

"How is Riki, Raoul?"

Ignoring the query once again, the Blondie flashed his own gloved hand in disgust as sticky sweet goo continued to adhere to the palm of the glove. He would have to change before they left. "Might I impose?" Raoul waved the evidence about and pinned Katze with a deep green gaze that brooked no argument. "I don't always know my own strength. Katze be so good as to return to my suite and have Deek bring me a pair immediately."

Iason sighed with satisfaction. "That would be the second time you intentionally attempted to remove Katze from my rightful purview, Raoul. One could mistakenly believe you were attempting some manner of misguided and wholly spurious means of protecting that which is not yours to govern."

Katze felt the chill as both males' cool countenances remained rigid; both prepared to pounce more than verbally. They regarded each other as if from a great divide. He had to end this now. "I don't mind, your Excellency."

Iason swung round, regarding the mongrel's taut, pale visage.

"Well, I do. You will remain here!" Iason hissed.

The dealer didn't even flinch. That flat amber gaze peered blankly at him, raising the Elite's ire further. This mongrel, his pawn, was actually challenging him. He _had_ changed, however subtly. There had been a time when Katze would have lowered his eyes in obeisance, however feigned. Now quietly, despite the odds the elegant little thing was taking a stand, knowing full well the possible repercussions. Katze was actually showing anger.

The swiftness of the Blondie's movement as he turned with a snarl, made the mongrel freeze in place. Iason towered over him with barely contained rage in the frigid depths of ice blue as a large hand was raised in threat.

"Your loyalties lie with me, not those who choose to bed defective merchandise. What was given can just as easily be taken, never forget that, Katze."

"No your Excellency, how could I?"

Anger could be a blinding emotion at times, especially when displaced. Iason hadn't noticed the sticky palm firmly resting on one broad shoulder with a pincer-like grip, nor the seemingly distant echo of paced clapping coming from the direction of the open plasma doors.

It was Riki bracing himself against the sliding doors, looking somewhat pale, fragile and without question livid.

"That's the spirit Blondie! When you can't get your way threaten to beat the shit out of your opponent, puts 'em back in their place _every_ time."

Katze's eyes drifted to the dark figure in the oversized white robe with a sadness that drained his own anger instantly.

"Riki? You okay, kiddo?"

The dark mongrel shrugged, steadying himself. "Been better, Red."

He was walking now, uncaring about Iason's wrath as he moved towards the clearly weakened mongrel, reaching him just in time as he tumbled forward into his arms. Katze felt the silver streak that swiftly shoved him. Stronger hands replaced his on the now irritable mongrel. "Let me go!"

"Be still, Riki." Iason carefully grasped the fragile mongrel who continued to flail in his captor's arms, sapping the last of his strength.

"I hate you." Riki sobbed against the sturdy silk clad chest.

"This is neither the time nor place, Riki. You need your rest." Iason murmured against the dark head, carefully lifting the mongrel, whose tantrum was quickly fading into fatigued resignation.

"I hate you. I really, _really_ hate you..." Riki whispered while curling into the now docile Elite.

"Yes, my Pet, this you have repeatedly told me. Now hush."

"Let me go..."

"No, Riki not this time."

"Should'a left you there in the fire to burn to a crisp." Riki balled a fist and hit the Syndicate leader in the chest half heartedly, snuggling closer.

"You were incapable of doing so." Iason retorted quietly, adjusting his burden with infinite care.

"It fuckin' hurts, Iason."

"I know, Pet. Even more reason for you not to disobey me in future." Iason corrected in an indulgent tone as he walked silently through the door, ignoring both perplexed males who gapped in open fascination.

"Fuck you!"

Riki was in excellent voice, Katze acknowledged absently, he chuckled to himself and retrieved his pack of smokes. "One for the books, those two. They'll be the death of me."

"That is not on offer, Pet. You have yet to earn such privilege. Keep your voice down. We have company."

"You wish! Put me down, I'm hungry. Why do you smell like pastry?"

The Blondie by the dealer's side remained rooted with blank expression as their voices faded. "Truly amazing, I have never understood it."

"Neither do they, Sir Am."

Raoul turned and studied the distant expression on the inordinately attractive mongrel's face. Katze looked genuinely sad.

"Chemistry, Raoul. A fatal chemistry. They're so much alike, it's not even funny. They'll keep going like this 'til they kill each other or destroy everyone and everything in their path, avoiding the obvious; right down to the wire, even through the fire."

"Meaning?"

Katze sighed, glancing sideways at the Elite through narrowed eyes. "I remember when Riki made the choice to go back in. He knew it was over, but he made the choice. He begged me to save Guy. If it were up to me, I'd have left the little shit in there to perish, but no, the kid wouldn't have it. He chose to go back. He kinda found it, in that moment, his reason for being. I helped them out the only way I could."

The dealer crushed the butt.

"Black Moons?"

The dealer nodded.

"They are illegal for your information."

Katze ignored the attempt at censure, "Yeah, all I could do."

"So typical of you, Katze. What you supposed to be an honourable death to your questionable way of thinking?"

The dealer snorted. "No Raoul, more practical than that. Try a relatively pain-free release. At least they were together, for what it was worth." Katze shrugged. "Seems Riki'll be okay, in a few, no?"

"Yes." Raoul's responded, his fixed gaze studying the now stoic countenance of his mongrel, who had been regarded him pensively. "You loved them, didn't you?"

Katze's glance grew quietly mischievous. "Loved, being the operative verb, Sir Am. Shall we go? You need a change of gloves and they have long forgotten about us, fortunately."

"Touché ." Raoul bowed decorously, the paraphrase with respect to the Ruby had not been lost on him. Equally since when had he begun to feel Katze was his? "By any chance do you play Chess, Katze of Ceres?"

"Not unless it's worth my while, Sir Am."

Raoul's expression became positively lewd.

Katze rolled his eyes. "Is that all you ever think about?"

The Elite feigned thought as they walked companionably towards the penthouse balcony doors. Raoul discarded the soiled glove on Cal's pro-offered tray and retrieved his medical kit. Katze inclined his head to the Furniture as they stepped past.

"Yes actually, when it comes to your person. A most agreeable pastime, no wonder it is forbidden."

Not for the first time, Raoul acknowledged peripherally, Katze had a rather pleasant laugh, perhaps because it was rare and only ever offered genuinely.

"If I win, I get the music box back. No questions asked."

Raoul sniffed indignantly, adjusting his tunic as he watched the silent farewell exchanged by former colleagues.

"And when you lose, Katze of Ceres?"

The mongrel looked inordinately smug as they entered the lift.

A mild fluttering occurred in the Elite's chest as warm amber eyes studied him from head to foot in a predatory manner.

"Then we both win, don't we?"

**~~~BMR~~~**

It burnt like molten fire.

Admon studied his own naked reflection, Ruby eyes focussed on the coiled brand emblazoned upon his inner thigh. The pads of a hand moved over the hot, angry helix that marred flawless opalescent skin, the mark of the First Ones.

Bitter sweet was the pain that signalled his Master's return and that of his Companion. The contact had been sporadic, aided by the ionic storm that preceded the cargo ship, but it had served. They would be late, but his Master always preferred making an entrance, his singular flaw.

Admon was proud and yes, somewhat perplexed at the timing. In truth the Master's sentinel had kept his vigil as promised, but with failing heart as the days turned into years with no answer to his call.

He could pride himself on a task well executed, right down to his appearance when found. The Karinese twirled a tendril of silky hair absently, remembering the first time he had laid eyes upon the mongrel in full.

The likeness of eyes and colouring was striking, though the male in question was smaller of stature, the mindset was eerily the same and grew more so day by day upon knowing. His curiosity knew no bounds, his singular flaw. It was just a matter of time before he pieced the puzzle together. Those trips to the tunnels below Guardian had been noticed.

Raoul Am had appointed himself by instinct as guardian not memory; curious this ancient drive to both seek and protect beyond instilled rational thought.

He was protector now and so obviously lover, where once he was only tormentor. The flaw, the challenge was that passion was returned, admittedly or not. In that Admon had failed. He had waited too long. Their connection had been made, little knowing the ties that bound them were ancestral, despite Lambda's best efforts.

The Karinese smiled as the music box, of its own volition opened and began to play an ancient melody.

Six disparate houses terra-formed this barren world, how disheartening that they would no longer recognize it, so debauched and changed, were the precepts it was founded upon. Its children barren by selection and carried on the electromagnetic currents and tides of those twin moons away from their purpose – until now.

**~~~BMR~~~**

It was faint, but Katze heard the muffled sound as he stood by the window admiring the sun drenched views from Raoul's library.

He turned following the pleasing sound to the large antique desk where his box sat partially open quietly playing an ancient score. He smiled softly almost tipping to examine it more fully before bending in front of it, noting the double helix design on its interior lid.

"Katze?"

The smile faded as pale eyes closed and the loud thudding of his heart gave way to dark oblivion, his last cognitive memory the sound of Raoul's voice as he crumpled.

"**KATZE**!!"

**Author's Note**

Yes, EP is an evil, evil, evil being. Now that we have established that, let me know *claps little hands in glee*.

Seriously, do we believe there will only be Twenty-five chapters...yeah...right and I have some swamp land for ya! Hope you enjoyed.

_**ElegantPaws**_


	23. Chapter 22

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **22** of ?

Reviews are fuel.

"_To my dear, intelligent, romantic, darkly sensual friend Angua. _

_No life is unremarked, so long as it touches another on the journey."_

_**SJW-Mc aka ElegantPaws**_

**Chapter 22** of ? – **An Unremarked Life** (Post OVA)

The future was born today in a hail of light.

Hair the colour of burnished copper glowed in the incandescence that pierced the darkness of space in fluid waves, answering the first invisible strike upon the planet's surface. Katzen marvelled, as she always did, when tentative fingers of light rose into the starless inky blackness coming to rest in pearlescent streaks of color upon the port bow of the Abyss.

"Magnificent," she murmured softly to no one in particular, taking the Com pad from Memnon, her First Officer, whose silent presence always gave comfort.

No two planets were ever alike in the process of terra-forming. The _soup_ had to be just right though essentially comprised of the same twenty four elements requisite for humanoid life.

Gray eyes studied the readout with satisfaction; so far, so good.

Carbon, the quintessential ingredient that would enable the formation of complex molecular structures, in short order was first. It would speed up the evolutionary processes. Her eyes lazily passed over hydrogen. Nothing but a place holder for a future generation she would never know; somewhat sad really. Still its presence was essential and proportionate to organic needs to come.

Katzen nodded meditatively, oxygen and nitrogen in abundance to aid in the fixed establishment of key enzymes crucial for mammalian habitation and the base flora that would come first. Phosphorous, sulphur and calcium, requisite for the existence and propagation of carbon based life in general, just enough without poisoning the fledgling atmosphere that should begin forming within the next forty-eight hours.

Lambda had done well in its calculations.

The planet chosen had anomalous twin moons whose gravitational pull and attendant erratic tidal flows had proved a bit of a challenge, particularly when it came to timing of the setting of the biochemical charges, hence Lambda's presence.

"Excellent. Lambda is performing to spec."

"It is, Sir."

Katzen grinned at her ensign. "Looks like you owe me a few credits. You were so sure the A.I would blow it."

Uncomfortable silence followed the flip statement. Tal never lost well, particularly to the inanimate entity orchestrating his helm in a symphony of rapid fire amniotic bursts, well beyond his own manual dexterity.

Taking the high road, Katzen smiled softly, deciding to leave well enough alone. This apathy to artificial intelligence had always been part and parcel of the human race, particularly with those disquieted by the concept of an A.I functioning beyond rudimentary repetitive tasks. Lambda was the next step in sentient life and the sooner some got use to it the better.

A radiant corona of bright, blue white light encased the planet's surface now.

"This never grows old, Mr. Tal."

"No Sir, it never does. You were right. I couldn't have done this one. Too many variables for one being to handle and the margins for error are non-existent."

Katzen long braid flew as she spun in surprise, bright gray eyes shocked at the abrupt admittance. "Thank you, Mr. Tal. I think you underestimate yourself, but the sentiments are appreciated."

Tal nodded, returning his attention to monitoring the display, effectively ending the discussion.

Katzen knew Lambda was far better equipped to deal with the compensatory computations and disbursements, on a molecular level, of the soup in this instance. The A.I had been specifically designed for this tour to compensate for Amoi's biochemical inconsistencies and subtle elliptical shifts.

She had laboured a five years on its design with her partner, the erstwhile and often mercurial Dr. Wolf. All that was left to complete was its biomechanical form and to instil the intrinsic drive to survive.

Lambda was light years ahead of the other positronic prototypes. Almost sentient in its ability to adapt, reason, and learn. In short, the ground had been laid for an intellect whose exponential growth would in no way be hampered by their absence, while they seeded other worlds for man's expansion.

It would have been a lonely, thankless task for a mortal to safeguard the nursery that was Amoi in its infancy. Not so the A.I, who would perform flawlessly unhindered by the intrinsic human need for companionship. Her best work truly and she would be sad to leave it behind in stasis awaiting their return for the ground breaking but there was nothing for it. Split second timing over the next seven years were a requirement to set the bio-engineered subatomic charges that would begin the osmotic process of what Mr. Tal, had euphemistically called, _God Juice_.

Amusing, considering he was an avowed Agnostic.

The shadow side of the planet's surface was a dim silhouette as veins of light lit beneath it in undulating veins, creeping slowly as they shifted rotation, away from the electromagnetic currents caused by their invasive sabre like laser strikes.

"Match its rotation, Mr. Tal. Let's take one final look."

"Yes Sir, matching rotation."

Turning vivid humourless gray eyes to her ensign, Katzen wondered if she would ever get use to the antiquated command hierarchy. Then again, she was a scientist, not military personnel. This ship was a means to an end. Her crew of twenty would be leaving soon enough for another star system. It would be another light year before they returned to harvest the newly formed garden Lambda would be left to attend.

What had once been a solely military recon vessel had been refitted for scientific exploration that was still lethal in its ability to defending itself, if necessary. It had never been her choice to Command but as the highest ranking infidel aboard, it fell to her with the demise of Shiryu.

Katzen sighed. His death remained unexplained. How in hell had he managed to get beyond the airlocks without anyone noticing and be spaced of all things?

She shivered at the memory as the computation pad was handed to her. Putting the disturbing visual aside of what was left of a once vital being, Katzen returning her attention to the formerly unprepossessing sphere below her. There was nothing to recommend it as it journeyed through quiet, sepulchral space but the twin shining discs orbiting like sentinels, holding a secret as yet unrevealed.

Katzen only hoped they were to be harbingers of good, these silent twins.

It was never going to be a beautiful world. It would never have natural resources to speak of, but it would grow prosperous through trade within the Commonwealth. It would be a planet of science, technology, and rebirth; a place to harvest knowledge and pursue excellence, unfettered by the mundane pursuits of survival for survival's sake. Only the best and the brightest would come here eventually. It would become the envy of the Commonwealth Alliances. This mission alone and the genetics samples left under guard would stack the deck in its favour, given time.

The Commander knew she would not live to see it, but it did not matter. The seeds had been planted. Katzen stroked her still flat stomach and smiled. Nor would he, but the generations to follow might and in the end, it was the continuity that truly mattered.

She stretched lazily, "Calling it a day, gentlemen; All yours."

"Yes, Sir, six hundred hours?"

Katzen nodded, returning the dais and Com pad to her second in command, who had remained silent and distantly observant. "Anything anomalous..."

"I know where to find you and with whom." Memnon intoned, his cerulean eyes danced with merriment as he took his place. "Thanks for warming it up. Get some food in you. The sapling can't live on air alone, Sir."

"Careful Aggy, one might actually think you cared."

"As if..._Sir_. Good Night."

**~~~BMR~~~**

A tired smile graced sharp patrician features. She inhaled deeply of the pleasing scent of incense upon entry to her quarters. Soft ambient light greeted careworn eyes. As always, that singular thought rose again of its own volition.

What in hell had possessed her partner, the Chief Medical Officer, to reposition the bed so that it was the first thing you saw when entering. Only twice had she fallen asleep on the couch, there was absolutely no reason for this peculiar form of ergonomics. One thing in its favour however, it was very off putting for anyone to visit off hours.

An evil smile curved full lips. There might just have been method to his madness after all.

The bed had been their focal point on the year long journey. They did everything in it. They ate. They slept. They...well, made their son.

On nights like this when fatigue made her covet that most sacred of spaces, those long, powerful arms that held her like a porcelain cup were always ready to hand. His schedule was controlled, hers, not so much.

"I saw...hungry?" was the soothing indulgent tone, whisper soft, that came from the shadowed silhouette that lay prone upon the bedding. Gray eyes, now dark accustomed, languidly studied loosely crossed legs in disreputable military issue sleeping gear that had seen better days, but he wore it well.

"You never wear the tops, do you?" Katzen offered sauntering into the room with a grin. "Not that I am complaining of course," she added quickly kicking off far too heavy boots that had never been laced to her mate's fastidious annoyance.

His face remained in shadow as he placed the thin bound novel to the side of the bed and folded those much loved arms across his bare chest for show. With a perverse grin she began to slowly strip, knowing her audience would be nothing but rapt attention; he was so predictable, come to think of it, as was she.

Katzen crawled onto the bed with a tired groan and kissed welcoming, soft lips. She licked her own before settling over his warm thighs with nothing between them but the thin filmy material of her underwear and the aged cotton of his nightwear.

"Chocolate? Where'd you get Chocolate, Doctor?"

She glided her hands over a smooth, hot, sleekly muscled chest with a petulant sigh, while lowering her head to savour those lips that had been cheating her. "You've been holding out on me, Mr. Wolf. Not nice. Not nice at all."

A light smack to a not particularly ample but well curved rear.

"Ow!"

"I believe it is tit for tat, Mrs. Wolf, particularly as the Commanding Officer in question only saw fit to inform the Chief Medical Officer about the new crew member approximately seventy-two hours ago."

Katzen sighed.

"... and only because of the regularly scheduled physical of the crew, not because..."

Straddling Radulf's hips more firmly, Katzen stretched like a sunning feline, thoroughly enjoying the feel of those non regulation curls at the base of a strong, resilient neck.

He purred contentedly.

"Can you blame me? Some of us, who shall remain nameless, have a tendency to be overly protective and somewhat interfering. I am the Commanding Officer. My current physical state bears no irrelevance to our mission."

"Perhaps to you, woman. Not to me."

Their noses touched briefly, his warm breathe caused gooseflesh to form upon her skin. This was the nice bit, she thought nibbling his lower lip playfully.

"_Boooring_, too much talking. I have need of chocolate. I have need of you, Mr. Wolf."

Strong hands grasped her waist firmly and stroked the curve of her back in ever expanding circles of warmth. "Not going to work, my love, however enticing. We must discuss this."

Ignoring his wasted attempt at censure, Katzen continued.

"Is it secreted upon your person, Sir? Must I resort to feminine wiles to find it?" Katzen murmured softly wriggling her hips and chuckling with wanton satisfaction. "Oh dear, someone appears to be in complete agreement with me."

"I hardly think you, pretending to be a mission specialist and hanging by a tether in space, possibly endangering my offspring, falls in the line of duty, Red. Precautions must and will be taken as I see fit. Those genetic samples do not merit undue risks."

"Irritating, overbearing..." she smothered his lips and ground her hips with a hiss against her favourite ally in arguments such as this. It always had the desired effect.

"Egotistical. Selfish." He retorted between soft, wet kisses, gently rolling her to the warm surface of the bed. "Controlling... maddening... woman."

"Ahh but would you have me any other way, Mr. Wolf?"

They regarded each other in the stillness as moonlight crept across their quarters towards the bedding, where the last remnants of clothing were quickly dispensed with.

"No. I would not."

At first the kiss they exchanged was almost chaste, growing in intensity as their skin warmed then heated in a tangle of limbs and sheets.

Katzen moaned in pleasure as deft, well practiced fingers sought and found her readiness and she cupped the delectable well muscled backside in a possessive hold and rocked her hips eliciting a pained answering groan.

His feral grin held promise as did the teasing thrust of lean hips. "Incorrigible little creature, what shall I to do with you?"

"Well for starters...oooh... yeeeesss, Mr. Wolf." The sharp intake of breath and the welcomed feel of her mate's hot, thick length cleaving her slick mound caused her pulse to quicken in anticipation.

"Mmmm...more you wicked, wicked, evil man." She writhed beneath him, willing him to enter her and stop the teasing grind.

"Yes, I am that, Red."

Long fingers, with irritating slowness, undid her braid.

"A bit of punitive ravishing is in order."

"Promises, promises, Mr. Wolf, I still want chocolate...later"

"Later." Radulf conceded, suckling a pebbled nipple as the twin moons silently observed the ritual of renewal.

**~~~BMR~~~**

His pressure and core body temperature had spiked twice in the last hour as he mumbled nonsensically and thrashed about, trying desperately to remove the covers from his overheated, flushed skin. Raoul observed with growing disquiet the rapid eye movement beneath closed lids. It was as if the mongrel were in a dream state at times with the sudden stillness that overcame him, before the illness presented again.

The Elite's eidetic mind ran through the dealer's medical history with growing trepidation. Raoul willed his naked fingers to stop trembling while pressing the cool compress to the mongrel's wide forehead and adjusted the pillows beneath Katze's now damp head.

How well he remembered another such instance, though not in his bed at the time and certainly without an audience as now with Deek hovering in the background, a mixture of curiosity and dread warring on his wizened face.

All the rudimentary tests had returned negative results, thankfully. The Elite's brow furrowed. Was that a positive under the circumstances, when clearly some manner of antigenic determinant had taken hold?

Katze's skin had gone ice cold in a matter of seconds but at least he was quiet again. This respite invariably lasted ten to fifteen minutes, just enough time for him to return to his lab and revisit the samples. He must have missed something in his fervour.

Rising, the Blondie headed purposefully towards his bedroom door, meeting the anxious, guilty expression in Deek's dark eyes with cold indifference.

"Remain here until I return. Do nothing further. Dismissal is still an option."

"Master?"

"Come now, Deek. I speak of the immunosuppressant you casually placed in his coffee out of spite. It has served to exacerbate his current condition."

Deek's eyes lowered with genuine fear and shame. "It was not my intent."

Raoul dismissively waved the manservant aside. "Neither here nor there, Deek, we will speak of this further. Consider it fortuitous that your attempt at giving him, what you would commonly term 'the trots' is the least of his worries at the moment and might have just saved his life. His antibodies are on full alert and fighting a battle of epic proportions within."

The Furniture hurriedly stepped aside and fully into the bedroom to attend his new duty, monitoring the wretched pale wrath-like body well ensconced in his Master's bed. Such a loathsome sight, this very thing he did not want.

Jupiter could be cruel in its trickery. Irony was he had merely meant to inconvenience the wanton mongrel, who clearly had forgotten his place as the dregs of Ceres.

Dark eyes scanned with annoyance the pale, patrician features marred by the scar. Too old to be a Pet. Too damaged to serve as visual aid to coital bliss when observed and yet, disarmingly attractive in his maturity, the cut of bone and body, though lithe and now unhealthily pallid, still flawless in a preternatural way.

He had only meant to forestall any further amorous goings on between his Master and the unconscionable creature and now this, he thought carefully dabbing the damp forehead and feeling sorry for himself.

**~~~BMR~~~**

So cold his teeth chattered and yet the bindings remained hot against his angles, midriff, wrists and neck. The cold metallic surface below his back was unforgiving in its frigidity.

"Be careful. He is coming to; quite strong this one and remarkably attractive considering his lineage."

Katze heard the metallic clink of metal by the side of his head. '_Must be the implant, but why could he hear them conversing?_'

"I told you, be quiet. He is feigning unconsciousness. Look at the brain stem. Active, completely aware, do not be fooled, gentlemen."

A malicious chuckle above his head and welcomed warmth as a shadow bent over his face. '_Heat, body heat, unusually high, either an Elite or a droid of some kind._' Katze stifled the urge to cringe.

"Well, if little boys will insist on playing games. Why not give him something worthy to focus on, Sir Niiro? Pain usually does the trick for these mongrels. They do not bear it well at this age, or any age for that matter."

That indifferent sigh at his feet, he had heard it once before and the scent, very pleasing. Katze willed the male at his feet to move closer, perhaps, though the beam of light narrowed his vision. Perhaps he could catch a glimpse of this being, who had yet to actually hurt him other than the constant probing of his flesh and the pin prick of pain elicited by the stilos used occasionally.

"Sudan, you have a thing for pain, don't you, preferably not your own? Leave the child. He has already been chosen for the Mink household. Undue damage might interfere with our experiment in the long run. These things require a delicate balance."

An undignified snort as a probe entered his nostril and pierced the membrane of his nasal cavity.

Katze screamed as the scented one came closer with a hurried step as his voice grew in richness and censure.

"Now really, Sudan, was that entirely necessary?! The wretched little creature is bleeding all over the place. We are never to harm the First One's derelict progeny!"

"Says who? He's nothing more than a mongrel of no use and most certainly of no significance."

"He will be, you flatulent ass! He will be!"

**~~~BMR~~~**

Pale amber eyes flew open as Katze sprang from the bed defensively and peered open mouthed at the Furniture accusingly, Raoul's arms came about his shoulders. The dealer felt the warm trickle and licked his upper lip, tasting his own salty, acrid blood.

Wiping his fingers below his nostrils, the dealer realized he was bleeding by the smear. "I remember, Raoul. I remember Sir Niiro. He attended my, my...alteration at Guardian but he was there for something else. He mentioned the First Ones."

Deek flinched, not a thought he personally wished to revisit. It has been painful. It was always painful with very little care given to the procedure. They were mongrels after all. They never merited care.

"Head back, Katze. You're getting blood all over my carpeting." Raoul admonished, pinching the mongrel's nostrils as he eased his naked form back onto the corner of the bedding.

"Why am I naked, Raoul? I mean," Katze eyes met the pinched dark irises of Deek. "Sir Am."

"Time for social niceties later, Katze, lie down."

As if in afterthought the Elite regarded his Furniture. "Leave. Your presence is no longer required. Prepare sweet tea. No additives mind, you would not begin to fathom the consequences should you disobey this order."

Deek bowed deeply, wholly perturbed by the care with which his Master had laid the mongrel prone and covered the dealer's naked form with infinite care.

"Stop fighting me." Raoul hissed, inserting the white gauzy material in increments up the dealer's nasal passage.

"Feels weird and it tastes bitter." Katze responded petulantly.

"Curatives are not meant to be flavourful or appetizing, Katze. I am attempting to cauterize the wound. Do be still."

"What wound?" Katze stilled the broad palm in irritation. Raoul's bland expression left much to be desired for a bedside manner.

"Some manner of implant has been dislodged by your hyper kinetic activity in the last thirty minutes. Before you ask, I have no idea of its purpose." Katze wriggled in protest, observing the small green con atop the bloody gauze with fear.

"Be still, damn it or I will be forced to anaesthetize you!"

"Fuck that! What the hell is it? You bastards just do as you like with us and don't expect protests! Your boyfriend did this. I remember."

The dealer's failed attempt at a swift swipe, only served to irritate the already intractable Elite. "Do not take my concern for granted Katze. He was not my ..._boyfriend_, merely a colleague with shared interests."

Katze snorted. "Right, cause everyone goes around painting their colleagues like a besotted lover."

Raoul's arm rose with the crumpled gauze as he prepared to pocket the sample. The urge to strike that importunate mouth was great, but he resisted it, though his face said otherwise in its cold, furious regard.

Katze stiffened and prepared for the worst, almost willing it as he glared back at the Blondie, expectantly.

"Go ahead, you want to, Raoul. Riki's right about your lot."

The Elite had bitten. "About?"

"When all else fails, strike your perceived lesser. Fear works a treat, Sir Am."

Piercing green eyes studied pale luminous amber. "You want me to strike you. So I won't."

Katze leaned back against the soft bedding and in turn regarded the handsome flawless visage in front of him. "You won't cause you don't get the same charge out of it, like he does. You'd only enjoy it if I showed genuine fear, instead of resignation. Kind of denies you the pleasure of conquest and you are all about the conquest, Raoul."

Raoul Am's head turned quizzically with a half smile about full lips. "Even now in a less than attractive stance, you are attempting to seduce me; intriguing, but to what end? What are you trying to placate within that sordid, fertile mind of yours mongrel?"

"I need to be right about this, thing we have."

The Elite placed a hand under the stubborn chin, forcing jewel toned eyes to look back at him. "No, you need for me to live down to your lowest expectations. You need for me to hurt you, so you can be right."

Katze blinked in confusion. "What do you want from me, Sir Am?"

"I should think that obvious, Katze." Raoul sighed and regarded his handiwork impassively. Perhaps not the most aesthetic of sights, Katze was a sweaty mess, and the two bloody medicated strips did not present the most attractive of pictures, but he smiled nonetheless. "Rest. We leave for the auction, soon. I am having your man Donovan bring you new vestments and that _thing_, undoubtedly will be accompanying him."

"What's wrong with my clothing?"

Raoul rolled his eyes. "Aside from being wholly inappropriate for such an event, some damage was done in extricating you from them, during your ague."

The dealer glared with annoyance. "You fuckin' ripped them, didn't you? Have you any idea how much they cost!?"

Waving dismissively, Raoul stood. "Most unsuitable and left very little to my imagination, or anyone else's for that matter. Hardly appropriate attire for the Auction, one might come away with the impression your services were for hire; possibly a quick dalliance by unaccustomed clientele. "

Katze's eyes narrowed. "I'm charging you for damages and I don't come cheap."

"Of this I am perfectly aware. It took near on five years to bed you, finally with the aid of chocolate."

The redhead twiddled his nose. The damn things were uncomfortable. "Got any? I need to get this bitter taste out of my mouth."

Raoul's pale brow quirked inquestion as he sat atop the bedding and marvelled at how quickly, the mongrel's mind moved from pillar to post. "What in Jupiter's name are you speaking of now, mongrel?"

Katze huffed in annoyance. "Chocolate, Raoul. I want chocolate if I have to lay here like some invalid."

"Ask nicely and I will see what I can do in that regard. Now tell me of your memory and Sir Niiro."

The mongrel snorted indignantly and folded long arms across his chest. "As if. Chocolate first, personal gossip second."

It was Deek's turn to see. They were oblivious to the dance.

The Master at the degenerate's side, gentle voiced and back no longer ramrod straight as he leaned forward and carefully extricated each bloody cloth, tilting the head of the mongrel back, examining his handiwork with care. The dealer's eyes remained at half mast. His defensive posture abating with each touch of soft finger tips against his skin.

Where had he seen that manner of care before? That low, decrepit table and the laborious task as scented oils were applied in the library without complaint in an almost silent meditation. Each knick and groove of time cared for and nurtured.

In this instance, cooling compresses were applied and deft fingers, smoothing damp bangs back away from a handsome flawed face. It was the allowance of so personal a touch that surprised the Furniture.

Though Katze's outward countenance remained fixed, the dealer did not resist almost moving into each tentative touch of broad palms.

Deek sighed, regarding the hot sweet tea atop the tray. Chocolate tea was apparently preferred.

He would fix it before asked. It was the least he could do under the circumstances.

**Author's Note**

Humble apologies for the delay and let me know. Happy Easter one and all.

**EP**


	24. Chapter 23

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **23** of ?

Reviews are fuel.

"_What a Fool Believes; He Sees."_

_**Michael McDonald**_

**Chapter 23** of ? – **Four Play** (Post OVA)

Donovan's blue-eyed gaze travelled the length and breadth of the restrained, yet expensively appointed bedroom of Raoul Am. A slow smile curved the minder's lips as his own fine orbs locked with knowing pale citrine. Dark brows waggled teasingly, taking in the towel draped just so around lean hips. The torso looked good too. All his workouts and personal training were workin' just fine.

"Not a fucking word." Katze warned, sotto voce, snagging the clothing sac from Donovan's grip ignoring the lewd grin plastered across the bodyguard's face.

Defensively the dealer marched with head held high towards the dressing room before stopping mid stride and examining the elongated carry all.

"Right breast pocket and the clips are in the left."

Katze nodded, refusing to be mollified by the forethought. He'd wipe that smug expression off Donovan's face yet.

"Black? That is all you could think of?"

"Shirt's white, that's my doin' by the way." Donovan countered smugly, examining the blunt nails of his paw-like hand before delicately nibbling at a cuticle. "You overdo the black-on-black theme," he sniffed superciliously.

The dealer gave a warning glare that was entirely lost on the budding fashionisto.

"Just be grateful, Boss. Left to Kato, you'd have been quite the fashion statement, had to rein him in."

Sparkling blue eyes returned their attention to the rumpled bedding that apparently had seen some recent wear. Someone had been busy. Again, his bright, inquisitive gaze rested meaningfully upon the draped towel resting low upon the broker's hips with more curiosity than was strictly seemly for one in Katze's employ.

Katze actually blushed, moving with renewed purpose towards the dressing room. "It's not what you think, pervert."

"_Suuuuuurrrrrrrre_."

"Not all of us think with our lower extremities."

"Why not? Works for me."

"Fuck you!"

"Too late, Boss man, should have spoken up sooner."

Auburn brows twitched, somewhat confused by the seeming non-sequitur. "I don't even want to know, do I?"

"I'm taken, apparently."

The Bodyguard grinned at the shocked, nay horrified, expression on his boss' face just as the en suite slammed shut, and he was left uncomfortably alone in the quiet bedroom.

"You're even beginning to sound like him? Have you noticed?"

Rare was the opportunity to tease his Boss without exacting his ire.

"I'm warning you... fuck. These trousers are too tight. Kato knows better."

No way in hell he was gonna pass this up.

"Dare I ask? Maybe a cold shower, or even better, I could go get your Blondie. I'm sure he'd volunteer his services in sorting your inseam to your total satisfaction."

"Enough already! Drop it!"

Sniggering softly Donovan approached the closed door, stopping to notice the discarded volume upturned on a throw or more precisely the drawn anatomical depictions of the humanoid male form, dissected into rudimentary parts and types.

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear to fuckin' Jupiter you'd been drinking, Donovan."

He'd never been this close to an Elite's quarters before, kinda disappointing really. He'd thought it would be more ornate, flashy even. Spooky how their tastes matched in the costly appointments; books, music, and enough silk to drown in, just to name a few obvious items.

"Are you even listening to me?" Katze asked into the sudden stillness. "Don't go touching anything in there. He'll have a shit fit."

A cold shiver ran up Donovan's spine as his eyes drifted with growing suspicion back to the anatomically correct depiction of a mongrel male. The fuckin' book had to be at least a couple hundred years old and yet, the profile was familiar; he'd have to ask the Boss about that. Now that he had a proper look, it wasn't just one, it was three basic types. One in particular was eerily familiar.

"So Boss, you tellin' me you lookin' all flushed ain't got nothin' whatsoever to do with the Elite currently boring holes in the android shit's back on the balcony?"

The answer to his query came from behind in the form of a deep, menacing register. He'd know that imperious, silken cadence anywhere.

Donovan spun on one heel automatically assuming a defensive crouch, drawing his laser pistol instinctively as he glared back into menacing eyes. The bodyguard holstered his weapon slowly and stood, cracking his spine in open irritation. This fucker had been right up his ass most of last night and today. It just wasn't fair he couldn't take him out without harming the Boss.

"This is of concern to you, exactly how, mongrel?"

They were sneaky shits and practically glided on air when stalking. Donovan cracked his back again and stood to his full formidable height, crossing his arms across his chest with what he hoped was subtle menace. A menace the Elite would not be able to act upon.

"Know your place."

With a barely perceptible nod of feigned deference to the glacial being now taking him apart with ice cold sea green eyes, the bodyguard re-iterated.

"No offense meant, Sir Am."

"Offense taken, Donovan," Raoul retorted with a sibilant hiss, closing the bedroom door behind him.

"Again...no offense, Sir Am. Thought this was a private convo between _my_ Boss and me. He's _my_ responsibility. Anything or _anyone_ that affects him is _my_ concern, Sir Am. Not that you'd understand, but I'd die for him."

Raoul's lips thinned as he levelled the tall, well muscled male with a blank stare. The man was practically preening in his presence, daring him to act. However subtle the stance taken, Donovan was being territorial.

"Such leading queries of a personal nature, particularly as I feature in the subject, will not be tolerated in my abode. This is not Ceres and you are nothing more than a servile, here on my sufferance. Never forget that."

Donovan ground his teeth almost biting his tongue, cerulean eyes becoming gray as flint, never leaving that perfectly designed face.

Raoul glanced dismissively at the minder, noting the throbbing vein in the mongrel's forehead and the scarring over his eye obviously from some distant encounter. In passing, Raoul did wonder as he headed for the en suite, what the other man looked like who had gifted him with this memento. Unfortunately Donovan chose that very moment to step directly into Raoul's path, stilling the Elite's progress.

Bottle green eyes narrowed. The utter gall of the mongrel, who now that he gave it thought and in such close proximity appeared a mere three to four inches shorter. Odd, not something he had previously given much thought to, but the anomaly was worth noting. Katze had chosen well.

"You have made your delivery. Join Admon on the balcony. I will take it from here."

The bow was slow and unexpected, though those insolent blue eyes remained fixed on the Elite's face a fraction too long before glancing away. Donovan abruptly turned and headed for the door, opening it a fraction before murmuring softly under his breath.

Raoul turned slowly on his heels and glared at the back of the bald pate with open derision on his perfect countenance.

"Would you care to repeat that threat, mongrel?"

Donovan did not blink, a slow malicious smile overtaking his face as he turned and stared back into livid green, willing the fight to come to a head.

"You heard me, Sir Am."

Enough was quite enough, Raoul thought as his heart raced in a new and gratifying way. His senses heightened by the sudden unexpected flow of adrenalin that coiled in the Blondie's gut while his muscles trembled for a different manner of release upon approach.

With protracted effort, barely able to contain the snarl within his voice, Raoul hissed into Donovan's face.

"You _dare _to give me orders?"

The stolid, almost inhuman expression on the minder's countenance was disconcerting. "No, I've said my piece. Consider it a warning."

Raoul's gloved hand grasped Donovan's thick neck. No response. "I could snap your neck so easily."

Donovan coughed, but did not try to extricate himself from the Elite's hold as he struggled for air.

"Don't hurt him, Sir Am," The Bodyguard rasped between clenched teeth, as his eyes began to water, and still he did not move. "You're probably the only one that can."

The Elite slowly loosened his hold and continued to stare into bright cerulean eyes. Curious, the mongrel's gaze never faltered despite his wind pipe being squeezed painfully and yet he had not backed down in the face of his own potential imminent demise; most curious, indeed.

Roughly rubbing his throat with a callused palm Donovan leaned forward, his voice a rasping whisper in the Elite's ear, just as the bathroom door opened.

Katze cleared his throat softly from behind, leaning against the open bathroom door. His expression unreadable, his honeyed gaze travelled over the unexpected tableau of Raoul Am, facing off with his personal minder.

"Donovan, leave now. Go join Admon on the balcony. I need to speak with Sir Am."

The guard nodded, slamming the bedroom door in the Elite's face.

It had been worth it that fraction of a second when he heard the Blondie's sharp intake of breath at what he probably considered an empty threat.

**It wasn't. **

There'd be nowhere to hide, if he harmed Katze. Even if it cost him his life; a small price to pay considering.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Regarding his form in the mirror Katze smoothed the suit jacket, enjoying the feel of fine woven silk beneath his fingers. The gun wasn't apparent and that was the point.

"When Donovan senses a threat to what he knows or understands, he gets reactive. I apologize and beg your indulgence, Sir Am."

Raoul glowered at Katze's reflection, still piqued by the effrontery of this lowlife who had chosen to threaten him, his obvious superior. He didn't much like being warned off his possessions, particularly the attractive redheaded variety currently studying him in the mirror.

As always when regarding the Ceres mongrel, his loins intervened, circumventing rational thought. What he wouldn't give to bend him over right about now.

"You'd want him at your back in a fight. He didn't mean it, Sir Am. He's all about honour. I need him to survive in Ceres."

"Stop defending him, Katze."

The broker turned, pale eyes narrowed as he carefully approached the livid Elite. "No. He's doing what I would have done in his position. If you want to take it out on anyone, take it out on me. I'm his superior, not you."

Katze saw the bunching of material and the slow rippling waves of muscular broad shoulders beneath costly silk. Raoul had yet to bother to change for their outing in Mistral. He was wearing his gloves however, that was interesting and that ever present bulge between lithe hips gave the entire game of aggression away. Raoul wanted, no needed to vent in more ways than one.

"Do not test me now, Katze." Raoul retorted through gritted teeth.

Sighing softly Katze got on his knees and slowly, carefully began undoing the Elite's buckle while maintaining the frozen gaze. "One of us needs a blowjob to work out those kinked muscles."

A gloved hand stopped the mongrel's progress as the zipper was lowered. "You are doing this for him, to protect him?"

Katze shrugged, affecting a wan smile. "It's either this or fight, Raoul. I'm not up to fighting you. We both know I'd lose. This way, you get to dominate me and get it out of your system, cause there's nothin' like seeing your seed dripping from another's mouth to put right the world, I've been told."

Raoul's grip loosened as he hurriedly discarded his gloves, preferring now to sift soft silky hair the colour of flames between his fingers. He closed his eyes, revelling in the feel of those hot fingers as they glided the metal clasp down, revealing his already engorged member to the cool air.

Abstractedly he noted how skilfully Katze peeled the fitted trousers from his hips, enjoying the feel of long fingers smoothing and soothing the tense muscles of his abdomen beneath his shirt, ignoring the proud length of his manhood, eventually coming to rest over his cheeks with a firm grip.

"Tell me what you want, Raoul," Katze murmured softly, his smooth shaven cheek nuzzling soft pubic hair. Raoul groaned in anticipation leaning forward allowing that wet, hot tongue's tip to glide teasingly up the distended vein that pulsed at the base of his cock.

The Elite's breath hitched, when a strong hand gripped him determinedly and began to pump slowly, while that skilled tongue sucked, stroked, and licked, keeping time with the slow undulations of lean hips.

Raoul gasped. It was not nearly enough, Katze was quite wrong. "You. I want you."

Too preoccupied with his current task the mongrel moaned softly, partially distracted by the urge to attend to his own growing need. He'd have to make a pit stop after this, but for now this was good, he thought taking as much of Raoul as he could within the slick wetness of his mouth, enjoying the feel of the Elite's living flesh and his scent. Not a bad start to the day, if he thought so himself, breathing in the subtle musk of his Elite.

Raoul tugged at the spun silk between his fingers, willing the mongrel's head up and away from his own bliss. Katze's flushed face, invitingly moist parted lips and lust hazed eyes held their own question, quickly masked, but for the softly spoken words of immediate need. "Then have me, now, Raoul, before it's too late."

Surrendering to the thought, Raoul caressed the mongrel's scarred cheek. Katze did not flinch. That was a first, in fact, he openly welcomed the touch.

With a decidedly lewd beckoning motion, the mongrel's guttural command to fuck his mouth almost caused the Elite to cum all over that exquisitely imperfect face. Raoul bit his lower lip to divert the titillating thought of kissing that cum drenched mouth while he plundered that tight, hot orifice again and again come nightfall. Only then would he be sated of this abnormal desire, while Katze's form quickened beneath his in surrender.

The Elite sighed languidly with eyes tight shut basking in the feel of that slick haven and the flexible tongue that welcomed his pulsing girth with a satisfied moan. For now, this would have to be enough. He had yet to taste of his mongrel in kind, but that too would soon be rectified.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon crushed the fragile bud within his palm, pensively gazing at the horizon. Everything was here as anticipated. The portrait, the box and the faded memories of his Master's past life inextricably wound to that of the pompous Elite currently being serviced with genuine passion, though cloaked as compromise. Such fools, they all were really.

The vision passed beneath closed eyelids of twisted limbs upon the bedding and the sharp cry of the mongrel in ecstasy as the Elite mounted him from behind, unable to resist the delectable presentation of Katze on all fours. Admon's lips thinned trying to control the jealousy that rested unhealthily in his gut.

His eyes danced beneath his lids as Donovan watched from across the balcony with suspicion as the thorny bud dripping blood was released from his palm, falling to the soft green moss beside his feet.

Admon knew the guard would not approach him in his current state - most advisable for the guard's longevity.

The bleeding would stop of its own accord. It felt good. A prick, a focal point for his misery while continuing to watch the rhythmic flexing of taut gluts as the Elite's slick member forcefully impaled the panting mongrel beneath him again and again.

He could not hear the primal cries or the words exchanged, but he watched nonetheless, rapt, envious of the Elite palming the blushing length of the mongrel in time and lazily licked of the sweat upon the dealer's neck while continuing to mindlessly claim Katze's flesh.

They were beautiful together, both forms cleaving to the ancient humanoid dance oblivious to the fact they were surrendering to their past, unable to bear fruit from their union though intertwined.

Admon paused, his face growing almost angelic in thought.

Perhaps that had much to do with the tireless drive of it, the unrequited need to take and be taken in equal measure.

Admon shivered as Katze came in wrenching pulses, his body slackening beneath the predatory male that still rode him with gritted teeth and an echoing shout not heard beyond his soul's reach.

It was the sudden stillness that caught the android's attention then. That silence so profound which always followed completion, his pupils dilated while their bodies trembled in slowly fading quakes and normalcy returned from the preternatural hormonal high they had shared.

He gazed upon the subtle shift of body atop the mongrel's and admired the long fingered hand that reached behind, smoothing, carding matted tendrils with reverence. The fingers were caught and kissed with equal reverence, understanding the request to remain still within the sated form beneath.

The Karinese understood all too well, why and what of Katze's silent request. Not so the Elite, he was sure, nuzzling the long elegant neck with renewed interest. Raoul only saw fatigue and complied. It was no hardship to be buried deep in his mongrel.

Admon's perfect brows knitted. Memory was everything for the mongrel in question. Eventually the Elite would come to understand why, but it would be too late. With the Master's imminent return all would change, irrevocably.

Katze knew this instinctively and so was holding on to the last vestiges of what he held to be a perfect moment, covetously stroking the cooling body atop his, consigning it to memory.

"We're gonna be late at this rate. What in hell are they doin' in there?"

Admon blinked, pulled from his inner sight by Donovan's still rasping voice.

The Karinese's eyes narrowed with malicious glee, pleased with the sight of the Elite's finger marks still upon that overly thick neck.

How interesting the difference of those self same hands now holding the mongrel gently, lifting the dealer into powerful arms, resting the damp auburn head upon a broad shoulder, carrying their burden to the en suite and while kissing the broker's tired brow.

"They will be done soon, Donovan. Have patience. Passion requires it."

Donovan's dark expressive brows rose as he pointed in the general direction of the bedroom and eased himself off the balcony wall.

"You mean, they're... We don't have time for this shit."

Admon smiled secretively, regarding his bleeding palm with a distant expression. "There is always time for requited passion, Donovan, never forget that. It is what separates you from me. Relish it. It is all you have, as human."

**~~~BMR~~~**

Foreboding filled the air with the paced click that echoed down the private debarkation port. The duty officer frowned as the echo came closer and yet the person, the rather tall person, still remained in shadow.

He just wanted his bed. Pulling triple duty for the sake of extra credits had its price, fatigue and irritability chiefly amongst them. It was then he saw her. No question in his mind or loins for that matter it was a female.

Bare feet no less, statuesque didn't cover it. Come to think of it, very little was covering much of anything, but for the strategic placement of flowing material, a veiled attempt at modest, for which his senses were thankful and now fully awake.

She almost glowed amidst the seemingly liquid dance of crimson against pale, pearlescent skin. Each graceful step a silent tome to perfection, but for the face shadowed by a deep cloak and the less than comforting sight of a laser tipped rod of some unidentified metallic material. It has been responsible for the clicking sound, not the male that followed a pace or two behind, definitely Elite and a Ruby but with a difference.

No flowing tresses, a single thick braid of the most vibrant vermillion hue he had ever seen. Surely it had been helped. They were a vain lot but contained, not so this one. Dark silks covered his tall lean body, reminiscent of the cloak she wore but in black, heightening his almost inhuman pallor and perfect countenance.

Very little sun apparently where he had previously been lurking. The shimmer of golden loops adorned his ears, only serving to set his physical eccentricities off and that smile that had been taking in the little man with no small amount of amusement in pale, cold yellow eyes.

Unconsciously, the portly man brushed back thinning greasy hair and made a valiant attempt to pull in his ample gut. It was all about the first impression after all.

He hadn't even noticed the female had stopped in front of him and placed identification discs upon the desk. "Sir Niiro of Amoi and his consort, Ajna-001 of Karin," she offered lowering the cowl revealing startling, ruby red eyes and a perfectly bald pate.

Some days, the officer acknowledged, it just wasn't worth the extra credit. These two were trouble. He just knew it.

No way in hell an ex-Pat Elite of clear social standing would be heading to Midas voluntarily and not Tanagura. Sure they had passed muster frighteningly fast. Documentation approved within the blink of an eye, but they were marked within an instant of recognition by the powers that be.

He shook his head watching the duo leave, their minions following behind with enough cargo to sink a carrier. Short visit his ass.

No good could come of this. He read the display again, noting the thin pink line that suddenly appeared beneath the Elite's name, _Mistral Auction_ _Attendee_. Oh yeah, the shit was about to hit the fan.

**Author's Note**

Minor tweaks made, just now, and I can give this chapter rest.

Thank you so much for your collective kindness and grace and for continuing to enjoy.

Namaste

**EP**


	25. Chapter 24

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **24** of ?

Reviews are fuel.

"_Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; _

_the most massive characters are seared with scars."_

**Kahlil Gibran**

**Chapter 24** of ? – **Maelstrom** (Post OVA)

Adjusting his suit coat for the last time, the broker looked about the room, his eyes intentionally avoiding the maelstrom of silken sheets as his face grew rigid and perfectly implacable. He would meet the Blondie downstairs. Raoul had one last check in with his Excellency, and Katze was glad of being spared the encounter. He had his own shit to deal with.

Elegant fingers passed through still damp hair from the impromptu shower. They had not spoken a word, both efficiently tending to their respective grooming needs, sharing only the emersion in liquid warmth and unusually gentle caresses.

In many ways Raoul Am was an enigma that Katze realized he would never really have the opportunity to know now. The lingering gentle kiss upon his lips as the Elite regarded him and adjusted his shirt with a speculative expression before turning abruptly and heading for the door.

It was better this way, Katze reassured himself, his palm resting briefly on his hip, skimming the skin warmed Com that rested there.

Donovan was spectacularly impatient today and obvious in his disapproval. Fear did that. It didn't help that last call, a precursor of events to come. The Ruby and his entourage had arrived.

Another cursory glance around the room before a long exhalation and the interruptive quiet tapping bringing his attention to the partially opened door that led into the study, Deek was standing there with his coat, looking bemused and out of sorts.

"Sir Am wishes me to inform you he will be along shortly. It is his wish you entertain yourself until he arrives with the object in the library."

Katze nodded, extending his hand for the long dark coat. Deek flinched at his swiftness and tried to relinquish his hold, dark eyes studying the shift in the mongrel's demeanour and the less than deferential gaze being levelled at him.

No question, there was a smirk on those well curved lips as surprisingly strong fingers grasped his. The black market dealer had meant to exact fear in his movement and touch. He had not forgotten the incident, nor had he forgiven it.

"I owe you one, Deek. You jogged some memories with your little stunt."

The Furniture shivered upon contact, though the mongrel did nothing but gaze at him as if from some great distance, studying every nuance of discomfort on the malleable, aged face with a clinical malevolence filled with promissory threat.

Exotically tilted amber sparkled with a chill akin to a winter's sun, giving off no warmth with its predatory vibrancy. Long, agile fingers grasped the frail hand and smoothly glided down the withered wrist with a vice like grip, pulling the elderly male forward and into the dealer's frigid aura.

"I always pay in kind."

Deek almost stuttered, avoiding the dealer's eyes.

"Do you require anything further while you wait? I have pressing tasks Mr...."

Katze chuckled, recognizing real fear in the vicious weakling. They were always vicious, the spineless who served; always seeking an opportune moment to strike, or exact vengeance upon their imagined foes, or those they mistakenly took as impotent.

"Katze, just call me, Katze, out loud that is."

"Excuse me?" Deek managed to mumble with nervous indignation.

The dealer released the fragile wrist and extracted the coat from nerveless, gnarled fingers.

"You know, instead of mongrel filth or something along those lines. Consider it fortunate, Deek, we will never encounter each other in so intimate a setting again."

He wasn't worth it. The urge to snap that wrist, a passing fancy, he would leave him to Sir Niiro and his ilk, that was be punishment enough. Again, that hollow feeling as he remembered those words and his gut twisted that fraction more, revisiting the words on the glowing screen.

'_He's here_.'

A part of Katze had died then, but that was no one's business but his own. It had been fun while it lasted, back to the comforts of place and cold surmise unfettered by desires wholly inappropriate for one such as he, schooled in the art of indifference.

In the end chattel did not have choice in outcomes, a lesson hard won in understanding and acceptance, something both he and Deek had in common.

**~~~BMR~~~**

The white light's refraction through the window pane cast a beautiful kaleidoscope on the faux wood flooring, its shafts spectral blaze giving the appearance of warmth at his feet. Robed and relaxed, he shifted the curtain slightly betwixt long fingers, a smile playing about his lips while regarding the mongrel below standing vigil, moderately amused by the irony of the signage that cast the welcomed rays.

"_Extreme pleasure governs life and death._"

Absently he twirled a coil of hair the color of virulent crimson no longer bound in meditative thought, "If they only knew the half of it."

One hour before the grand entrance. It would be spectacular, if he had anything to say about it and he did.

He closed his eyes and inhaled, wry smile still in place on his perfect, porcelain face.

Muted cinnamon with a hint of clove always heralded her entrance, such pleasing exotic notes of mouth watering fragrance for a being of steely disposition and candour that belied her appearance.

"Master, is this to your liking?"

Niiro turned toward the soft, well modulated voice with a half etched smile.

She was resplendent in gold and crimson and knew it. His lazy gaze caressed her form before returning to the window and the tall mongrel caught beneath the lamplight in silhouette.

He beckoned the comely female to his side with an outstretched arm and an impatient wave of fingers, coiling the sheaf of material that loosely hung as sleeves.

"Get to know him, befriend him if possible. Use his substantial ego to win favour. Females are rare in these parts, he will be enthralled.

Ajna's eyes narrowed speculatively as she began tracing the appropriate memory, finally matching the face with her records.

"Guy; the current leader of Bison and former pairing partner of Riki the Dark, once Katze's minion by auspices of your leader, Iason Mink, correct?"

"As always, my dear, note he acts as sentinel. Undoubtedly the dealer has been informed of our arrival."

Ajna nodded dispassionately with a slight turn of chin as she regarded her Master's regal and somewhat supercilious bearing. He was plotting. He was always plotting.

"You are toying with them still. Is that strictly fair? Katze responded to the summons, though it was not meant for him. I still question why Admon allowed this to occur. He had sufficient time for retrieval."

The Ruby observed with growing amusement the fidget within the broad muscle mass of shoulders and the skittish twitch of long, lean limbs. Guy instinctively felt watched, though he knew not the source.

"Excellent instincts would you not say, Ajna?"

"I can see why Jupiter found them unsuitable. He is chaos personified, just like all his kind, ruled by their irrational side and wholly undisciplined."

Sir Niiro raised a finger in warning.

"Aaaahhh but never forget they present a wealth of genetic material that still lies fallow. They are the possessors of a genome that if properly harnessed could be the pinnacle of all bipedal sentient life forms. A dormant gift from the First Ones not yet fully realized to its full potentiality."

She sighed. "You mean they are self perpetuating? So are many other species, including my own. If they had worth Jupiter would not have culled them so selectively."

"More than that, Ajna, so much more than that, it is why we are here."

Ajna's aquiline features remained impassive while studying the flawless profile of her Master.

"Is it strictly necessary for us to attend the Auction? Why not return to the labs and retrieve the necessary materials before interception?"

His voice was low and calm then, a rich deep register that held a hint of menace.

"Oh I don't think so. I must see the progress. To be truthful, I am rather curious and there is the issue of Admon. He would be bereft if we came and went and did not at the very least acknowledge his lonely vigil."

Her gaze travelled beyond the window, glazing slightly as the thrum of a familiar heartbeat and that ceaseless call returned.

"Should I answer him? He grows impatient."

The Ruby waved a hand dismissively, his sight still intent on the tall, angular male below as he spoke with an abstract air, "Fascinating creatures, unaware of their true value to this day. Divide and conquer as they say, remains the most effective means of control."

"Master, your meaning escapes me."

He turned and regarded her anew as if unfamiliar with her presence beside him, his pale lips curving into an indulgent half smile. She was use to the frequent wanderings of his formidable mind, but never the indifference of his regard when asked a question. That smile always masked impatience with what he deemed the obvious.

"They continue to be used as fodder for Guardian's experimentation whose sole purpose is to refine and refuel my brethren's continued evolution."

"DNA?"

Sir Niiro nodded slowly, shifting his gaze back to the intriguing being who now straddled his bike.

"It remains their primary reason for continued existence, though they are the inheritors of the lowest rung of society and rendered incapable of reproduction, but for a select few, who call themselves citizens, such a misnomer considering the cream of the crop lay in three strains as yet undetected."

Ajna and her Master continued to study the attractive chestnut haired mongrel, openly fascinated by his quixotic movements. He had made a decision, pocketing his personal communication device and gunned his bike. They watched his departing shadow heading into the late afternoon away from the hotel towards Mistral.

"I sense deference in your manner towards these mongrels of Ceres."

"Careful, my dear Ajna, you forget yourself and your purpose here. Spend some time with him. Observe him and report your findings."

Undeterred by the quietly spoken rebuke, she continued.

"Altruism aside, the fact still remains, Master, the price of your supremacy is impotence. Your destiny remains inextricably bound to your maker, not the progenitor of your species."

"Yes, this is true by defying the originating codes Jupiter perpetuated the species based on its own mega maniacal need for control, mirroring itself in humanoid form."

Sir Niiro's lips pursed, "Your point, Ajna?"

"Simply this, Master, servility is servility. Whether masked by intellect, physical prowess, or carefully inculcated morays designed to justify dominance of one variation of a species over another to serve spurious ends."

"Quite true, we are inextricably bound to one another for continuity. A sin, a wholly flawed sentience will never forgive in its endless pursuit of perfection. This Amoi is the result."

Turning slowly, the Ruby grasped her chin with ungloved fingers, examining her profile with paternal pride. "Unlike yourself and Admon the next step in our evolution, how apropos that the Chosen should prove its own demise, don't you think? Even as we speak, all slowly unravels."

Ruby eyes danced momentarily, as his fingers warmed her skin and she observed the distant gaze as his thoughts drifted to another. The image was sharper now of spun gold locks, feral green eyes and an expressive mouth with a surprisingly ready smile. He was thinking of Raoul Am.

"Stop it. We agreed."

She lowered her lids, allowing him a false sense of privacy. "It cannot be helped, Master. I am of Karin and the outcome matters of this journey we take to your home world. Many are watching and if you are to succeed, I must remain vigilant until such time that you have retrieved the records and we make our escape."

He passed the pad of his index finger over soft, velvety lips with a dispassionate air, pursing his lips in thought. "True, just mind the liberties you take in the recesses of my mind. Some things must remain private for this Elite, regardless of personal evolution and intent. We do not do well, when control is wrenched from our grasp. We are bred to it. Consider it a flaw."

The kiss was dry, a mere brush of lips.

"He is mine. More than one of us needs to remember that fact. Do not intrude where you are not wanted."

The air about them crackled with warning as a thin smile graced the Karinese's lips and she took in the full measure of her creator, mentor, occasional lover and Master of years. "But does he, Master? You have not taken in account that he too might have evolved past youthful zeal and first passions unrequited in body and mind."

Her cheek burned as she stumbled backward onto the chaise from the unanticipated blow.

"Get out. I must dress."

Righting herself, Ajna stepped back toward the doorway with blank countenance. She bowed deeply with a satisfied smile, ruby eyes ablaze. She had struck a chord. "Of course...Master, I live to serve."

Sir Niiro snarled at her retreating back, fixing her curvaceous form with a steely gaze.

"Yeeeeeees, you would do well to remember that in future."

The door closed with a final click.

First she would find her twin Admon. He called as did the other, muted, selectively calm, but it called into empty space.

The Chosen, indeed, she thought observing the twin moons beyond the floor to ceiling windows of the main hall. They still held their secret intact, for now.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Cautiously Katze retrieved the metallic box, now safely placed in a carrying case. Raoul thought of everything.

He would open it again in the privacy of his office, perhaps with a little more care this time and after a good meal. Something was obviously off with its electronic circuitry to have given him that jolt. At least he had earned it fair and square and rather enjoyably.

With a twinge in his step, not of regret, Katze grinned somewhat lewdly as he walked down the quiet hallway towards the portrait, which still drew him like a magnet. The pull was impossibly strong, almost like a call. There was an answer there, but what the hell was the question?

He shook his head in mild distress, long fingers nervously feathering the damp auburn silk that covered his scarred cheek. This would be his last opportunity to gaze unobserved, perhaps it would finally come to him in the coils of crimson silk tresses that reminded him of the life giving helix, the stuff of life they all shared in their mutual DNA.

Okay so it was a bit of a slap in the face to regard the man who held Raoul's heart, mind and probably soul but there was nothing for it. You take what you are given and make the best of it.

For a time he, Katze, had Raoul's body and that would have to be enough. Not that it was exactly a hardship being fucked to blissful perdition by Raoul Am at any given time. Hell, he'd have done it anyway, despite initial protestations to the contrary.

Katze shuddered bodily in memory.

He would miss his lips. The son-of-a-bitch could kiss. He would miss that almost as much as the inherent pleasure of those long, tapered fingers and soft moist lips wandering sinfully over his body, exploring and memorizing every valley and peak of sweat dampened skin in an unspoken benediction in that last hour.

Katze sighed aloud. Raoul had been saying goodbye too, however subconsciously.

No regrets. It was done. They had gone as far as they ever could. Almost finding their own peace this day, perhaps even making love towards the end, if that was possible. That had been unexpected, this relinquishing of control and surrender to the ecstasy of communing with the Blondie's flesh and the hallowed stillness that followed.

The weak smile of memory faded from his lips at the gut wrenching reminder of who Raoul was really kissing, loving, caressing in his mind's eye. He'd been substitute, but the real deal was back and would be loved, not just fucked with aggressive abandon.

Katze squashing the niggling feelings of jealousy that began to creep into his gut. Yes, he had enjoyed. The redhead more than asked for Raoul's attentions this day and he hadn't been disappointed in the least. No point lying about it to himself. If nothing else, he had that.

It was simply time to let go of something that could never truly be his, except in the furthest reaches of his mind, just as when a young Furniture, taking furtive glances at all that beautiful spun gold and the scent of him, the distinct sound of his voice in laughter. Just a crush gone pretty damn wrong, he wasn't Riki. No fuckin' way would he allow this and now it had been taken out of his hands for good.

His throat tightened as he looked up into the perfect visage so deftly caught in brush stroke.

"All yours. Take very good care of him, Sir Niiro." Katze bowed deeply to the portrait.

The salty tear that touched his lips as he whispered his secret request into the echoing sepulchral silence boomed in his ears. "Don't hurt him is all I ask, he's better than most of you."

Katze bowed again to the portrait, missing the shadowed movement beyond the corner of his eye as he rose, feeling suddenly watched. The sudden loud intrusive bark of one pissed Raoul Am from the opposing end of the hall was reassuring though. He could not hear exactly, but it was obvious his Furniture was having a new one cut.

The dealer grinned maliciously and silently retraced his steps down the hall and back into the study where he should have been.

A superciliously arched brow and indifferent emerald green eyes greeted him.

"I do not appreciate being kept waiting while you wander about my residence critiquing my artwork."

Katze eyes narrowed, but he lowered his head in obeisance. The vaguest of suspicions occurring but he kept his tongue and reached for his Com to inform Donovan of their imminent departure.

"I humbly apologize for keeping you waiting, Sir Am. Shall we go?"

Raoul stood behind his desk, momentarily caught off guard by the ready acquiescence of the feisty mongrel. No excuses. No penetrating gaze of defiance in those amber pools that strove to avoid his questioning regard.

A gloved finger pointed at his personal Com accusingly.

"Put that away. I've already informed your man, we are taking a Syndicate vehicle. I refuse to accommodate the stench of that _thing_ at so close a proximity to my person."

Katze bowed formally, glad of his sudden unexpected fortune; At least he would be allowed a private opportunity to regroup before acting as escort for what obviously promised to be a trying afternoon.

"Of course, Sir Am, whatever you deem appropriate." Katze almost clicked his heels before attempting to turn for the study door. "I will meet you at the main gates and escort you from there through the underground security ring to the main chamber for final examinations."

Katze kept his head low, awaiting the Blondie's sure approval. None came. Furtively, the dealer raised his head without looking directly into the eyes of the male now standing in front of him, fastidiously bedecked in his formal regalia.

'_Fucking bastard is gorgeous and knows it!_'

"What part of _**we**_, did you not comprehend, Katze of Ceres?" Raoul waved an impatient gloved hand, lifting the stubborn chin, so their eyes met. "You will be accompanying me, of course. If you remember correctly, it was Iason's wish that you do so."

The redhead nodded, averting his gaze as he squared his shoulders and subtly shifted, effectively removing the fingers beneath his chin. Raoul was too close for comfort, far too edible at this range. The dealer stepped back two respectful paces, inclining his head again towards the doorway with an elegant turn of wrist.

"Of course, after you, Sir Am."

Raoul studied his stolid profile with pursed lips. "Need I remind you where you shall take _eventual_ rest this night? I sense diffidence in the offing by your current demeanour and truthful, Katze, it is most tiresome in a chosen lover."

The Blondie suppressed a grin, noting the abrupt shift and sudden appearance of sparkling amber levelling him, as per usual with a clinical expectancy. Here it comes, his opening gambit, such a predictable creature, but at least he held his gaze now.

"Sir Niiro has taken the entire second floor of suites for himself and his entourage at Apathia. It's the talk of Midas this hour, Sir Am. One assumes your plans for the evening might have changed."

The Blondie snorted dismissively, adjusting his cuffs.

"How typical, always has to make some manner of provocative statement. Undoubtedly he intends to be the beau of the ball this afternoon and will of course expect me to dance attendance, which of course protocol demands I do. It should be entirely too fascinating to watch him prance about putting everyone at sixes and sevens. If nothing else, he is always entertaining."

The mongrel blinked but did not comment, instead selecting to follow, as was fitting, the broad expanse of shoulders and those mesmerizing long lean flanks out of the study.

'_He had to be doing this purposely._ _Even his freakin' walk was alluring. BASTARD_!'

Far too flippant a response; perhaps he had already known, hence the impromptu meeting with his Excellency, delaying their departure.

Katze's face became set like an alabaster bust with pre-occupied thoughts. So much so, he found himself walking into a broad chest and blinked in confusion, as long gloved fingers feathered his bangs and emerald green eyes studied him with open amusement.

"Come now Katze, stop dwelling on the inevitable. It changes nothing of consequence in the end."

"Yes, of course, Sir Am, excuse me." The dealer almost jumped back from the Elite, somewhat flustered by the delicacy of touch.

Raoul demeanour shifted as he pinned Katze with a warning glare. There was really nothing to correct in the mongrel's current manner, speech or bearing. The subtle distance employed in tone however would be corrected on the journey to Mistral.

'_Why oh why, had Nii-nii chosen this day to make his damned appearance, when such headway had been made?'_

**~~~BMR~~~**

In no way scenic, the views beyond the bullet proof plexi held no interest for the broker, who had been this way before in more ways than one. Better to put the time of enforced proximity to good use.

Opening his coat, he reached in for the slim flat shielded external device linked with his terminal and handed it to the unusually quiet and somewhat pre-occupied Elite seated across from him, staring daggers at him beneath long golden lashes.

"I would appreciate your medical opinion on the current state of the chimera, Sir Am. It has taken no sustenance in the last day. Is this normal? Your med-techs seemed perplexed by its complete lack of evident sexual organs, considering what it is being purchased for. In this instance, Sir, I think we need real expertise. We can't sell defective..."

Raoul dashed the device to the side. "I will not tolerate being ignored by means of banal chatter, Katze. Have you nothing to say of relevance?"

The dealer sighed aloud in resignation, resting his head against the plush headrest and massaging his now throbbing temples with slow semi-circles willing patience. Just this once, to pass an afternoon in the Elite's company without incident, was that so much to ask?

"Please, Sir Am can't we just do this without the drama?"

Raoul's chin lifted as he glared through his silken fringe that despite repeated swats fell back over one eye disobediently.

Katze half smiled at the idiosyncratic and totally futile behaviour, catching the Elite's raised hand, mid swat. "Stop already. You're gonna put an eye out at this rate. It has a mind of its own, Raoul, accept it."

More glaring, but what surprised the dealer was the fingers in question twinned with his and lowering to a well muscled thigh possessively.

The mongrel sighed studying their hands abstractedly, taking minor comfort from the growing warmth beneath the gloved palm that covered his.

"I've been sitting here trying to think of something to say to you that wouldn't cause a fight, if you must know. You just want to fight today and I have no idea why, exactly. I've done everything you want and then some. You've been gunning for me all morning."

Raoul's mouth opened then closed forming a grim line as he released the mongrel's fingers and looked out the smoked windows at the passing vista in silent annoyance.

Not like he didn't expect the brat factor to kick in, regardless of what he did to appease the mercurial being. Raoul's abrupt monosyllabic responses to repeated attempts at business-like discourse, was trying to say the least.

Everything he said, regardless of how scrupulously deferential his response, appeared to displease the Elite in some fundamental way.

"Just tell me straight out, Raoul, what I've done wrong now. I'm tired of doing, saying the wrong thing with you. I'm actually trying for some normalcy here, Sir Am. What do you want?"

A malicious grin overtook the patrician features before him, as jewel-toned eyes hooded. Katze exhaled expecting the worst.

"Well, be comforted by the fact that my current wants do not include you provocatively splayed over my groin, wantonly groaning and shouting obscenities with each upward thrust into that tight, delectable ..."

"Give me a fuckin' break, Raoul! There's no point in continuing this sick game we've got going."

Seemingly unperturbed by the mongrel's importunate bark intended to jar, Raoul's appraisal drifted to Katze's crotch with smug satisfaction, the loins never lied.

Waving a gloved digit as if conducting an unseen orchestra in the general vicinity of the mongrel's burgeoning interest, Raoul snorted.

Katze crossed his legs uncomfortably, coloring slightly beneath the knowing gaze.

"However involuntary, you are in readiness at the prospect of coital fruition, though your words say otherwise, Katze. One wonders which aspect most appeals at this juncture, being taken or taking?"

"Try putting that mouth of yours to good use for a change, Sir Am." Katze sighed, willing his bodily interest to subside with Herculean effort as he wrapped his outer coat more tightly about him. "Can we drop this?"

Raoul snickered. "Is that a promise, Katze of Ceres? Are you in desperate need of relief?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Katze chuckled ruefully. What the hell was the point?

"Raoul, let's pretend to be businesslike. We both have a job to do today, Iason to please and I'm pretty sure at least one of us'll get to live out that fantasy later tonight in the right arms."

"Answer me this, Katze of Ceres, what became of the man that clung to me earlier?"

The question was so softly spoken that Katze wondered if he had heard correctly, particularly as the cool patrician face that studied him was somewhat distant and defensive in its regard.

"He knows his limitations, Sir Am. Maybe he accepts time has run out in this little fantasy. He knows when the crosshairs of a gun are levelled at him. The safety is off and the optical sights are set; no more options."

"So he runs? I never imagined you to be spineless, Katze."

"Maybe he's made peace, Sir Am. Allow me that."

Darkness overtook the interior space as the car lurched slightly and they entered the darkened interior tunnels on the automated conveyor.

They had arrived.

Katze reached out for the encased box across from him and felt large, gloved hands atop his.

"He's trying to anyway, without any help from parties that shall remain nameless."

Raoul studied the elegant profile of the mongrel, now closed to him, registering the deep tired sigh across from him.

"I've reached that limit with you, Sir Am. I can't go any further without losing."

"Losing what, Katze?"

The sleek body across from him slumped as the mongrel leaned forward with hands buried in what he knew to be soft, cool silk of an autumnal hue. It was incongruous the chuckle that escaped that elegant throat.

"I always knew you had a mean streak, Raoul but until now, I never thought you were actually cruel. Allow me to save face, just this once."

"You are afraid of losing your edge, perhaps?" the Elite persisted, wanting, hoping against hope.

Katze needed closure to this useless conversation. It bore hallmarks of his recent conversation with Admon about the inevitable fall from grace. He felt the vehicle slow and the subtle shift of limbs across from him in anticipation. Searching for something to do with his hands, the dealer retrieved the mobile terminal just as the engine was cut with a quiet hum of finality.

The silence shared was eerie as the door was opened. He just wanted Raoul to alight, ending this.

"Naaahhh, no fear, I'll never lose that, Sir Am. I'm bred to it. That's easy. It's the other shit that's hard. Waaaaayyyy too complicated for this mongrel. I don't do complicated, Sir Am."

The dealer waved at the opened door where the chauffeur stood ramrod straight in shadow, "You first, Sir Am. The monitor needs to see you for identification purposes otherwise the drones optical sights will react in less than ten seconds."

Raoul's speculative gaze shifted, first to the open door beneath the garage's confines and then back at the mongrel who was now busily tapping his Com, as if he hadn't spoken.

"You are a thwarted race," the Elite said snippily, suddenly irritated by the interruption of place and time and the cold air that caressed his face from without.

The dealer shrugged indifferently at the attempted slight. "Consider it a learnt response, Sir Am. Without it, my kind would not survive. Never bet against the House. They hold all the good cards."

Gracefully the Elite alighted, righting his tunic, his eyes becoming dark accustomed instantly.

The hallway was long that led to the lifts. He could see shadowed movement and lasers cocked wearily in anticipation of a false move. Nothing he could not handle in a pinch. They were mongrels after all. His own men were here as well, their own pistols, unbeknownst to Katze's men, levelled in the middle distance, prepared for a retaliatory strike, just in case.

"That presupposes all the cards dealt have not been duly cut and memorized ahead of time, Katze."

They were cagy bastard, no doubt about it.

"Imagine that, you advocating cheating, Sir Am?"

Their footsteps echoed as one up the slowly inclining cemented path as shadows parted for both and they continued to follow the iridescent red beacon of light that lit the way in the darkness to the lift. They both stood motionless and silent for a time as they waited for the elevator that would take them to the labyrinthine depths of the compound housing the Pets.

"I'm dismayed, nay horrified at the concept." Katze whispered mockingly glad of the darkness that would hide the wry smile upon his lips. He didn't need to see the Blondie was bristling indignantly.

The dealer shivered as warm breath ghosted across his earlobe unexpectedly and hardened muscles adhered to the smooth curve of his back. A single digit's tip tracing the line of his taut neck, proprietarily, as the lift doors opened and the Elite ushered the broker in with a slight motion of a broad palm against the small of the mongrel's back.

"Only when necessary, Katze," was the soft murmur, meant solely for the ear being nipped. "We don't lose that which we deem important without a damn good fight, even when the ass in question selects not to understand, intentionally."

The mongrel's breath hitched at the implication of the Elite's words.

"I never lose, Katze of Ceres, remember that."

**~~~BMR~~~**

"Those two need to be locked in a room until they get it out of their systems, or one of them dies of exhaustion."

Donovan nudged Guy conspiratorially as they regarded the private lift's monitor, openly fascinated at how skilfully the Elite had backed the smaller male into the corner with a searing lip lock and practiced hands commenced roaming freely over the mongrel's body.

"Hey, the Boss ain't no slouch, either." Guy offered as an aside, eyes glued to the monitor. "Got himself a fine piece of ass, I'd do him."

"Whore!"

Guy snickered. "You should talk. If it moves, you'd fuck it."

Both heads bent to the side, following the downward trajectory of bodies to the carpeted flooring with impressed whistles.

The bodyguard slammed the emergency brake, jarring the lift to an abrupt halt before pressing the Com's audio and video link, increasing the volume for effect as he spoke in stentorian tones.

Guy backed up. He really didn't need to be seen.

"You got about thirty second, Boss, before those doors open onto the show room floor."

Donovan snorted at the startled, breathless males who had gotten to their respective feet within a millisecond. The guard did note however, only one was hurriedly attempting to adjust skewed clothing, while displaying a prominent finger directly into the camera's lens.

He had to give the Elite credit. Sir Am hadn't flinched, merely cocking a dismissive brow and shot his sleeves in annoyance.

"Open it now, Donovan." Katze hissed menacingly. What had gotten into the man? "Don't make me regret not blowing your brains out when I had the chance."

"You sure?" Blue eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Donovan! I'm gonna kick your balls straight through your fuckin' skull cap in about a second! Open this now!"

Guy snickered quietly as tears ran down his face and he backed away from the two way link up with a warning wave of Donovan's lowered wrist, despite his pleasant expression.

"Who's with you? I hear noise. Is it Guy!?"

Donovan did have a sense of humour, but it would be sure death if Katze were to realize he had observed the private moment too. The Boss had never much liked him for myriad reasons, beginning with Riki.

The guard shrugged lazily, ignoring the query. "Okay, Boss just thought you'd like a minute or two to do up your fly."

Katze eyes became saucers as the doors opened and his expression was very much that of a marsupial caught in lamplight.

He had never been more thankful for the Elite's greater size and speed as deflection. The smug twitch of lips, however, was not appreciated by the broker who glared up at his Blondie in warning, while the closure refused to budge.

"Do you require assistance, Katze? You appear to be having difficulties." Raoul offered solicitously, smoothing a gloved hand down the mongrel's thigh while blocking the view of the barman.

"No damn it!" The redhead hissed and began to struggle once more in earnest finding eventual success.

Deadly amber became opaque and flat with decision. After the immediate task of killing Donovan most painfully, he was going to murder Kato. These trousers had always been too tight.

"Wipe that fuckin' self satisfied smile off your face while you're at it!" Katze whisper shouted up at the male patiently regarding him. It would not do for anyone to notice his anomalous behaviour to his superior, particularly the barman who had been furtively gazing at the lift's occupants.

Katze marched forward, forgetting protocol and headed for the revolving bar, leaving the snickering Elite in his wake while critically revising the order of his hit list.

Raoul would be first, after a good stiff drink.

**~~~BMR~~~**

So dismissive and calculating a response after six years of waiting in the futile hope of praise for a job well done.

None came, just the expected command to expedite retrieval before his arrival.

The Karinese uncoiled himself from the lotus position he had assumed in the back booth, away from prying eyes. The lack of noise and the tumult about the wide expansive room filled with specimens proved the only place of respite for communion with his sibling.

He felt that familiar presence now, walking imperiously down the hallway, peripherally inspecting tags with his med-techs respectfully offering rejoinders to queries about general health of one or other of the black market dealer's acquisitions.

Raoul was definitely pre-occupied, a veritable maelstrom of cloaked emotions and a good deal of frustration with that singular redhead, the object of his need.

Just for a moment, a mischievous gleam set dark ruby eyes aglow. It was said, revenge was always best served cold, though few understood the phrase for what it meant when properly applied.

Patience had finally presented him with a twofold opportunity.

Distance and time was a very good thing in strategizing. One should never take umbrage readily, a common humanoid failing he had never fallen prey to.

Patience.

Above all else, patience was requisite. It afforded one the time to mull before striking with cool clinical precision when exacting revenge. The fact that at least one encounter would be enjoyable, just another fringe benefit of patience.

Quietly Admon retreated, observing and not for the first time, Raoul's expression as he looked about the room; something about the Elite was definitely psychically inclined. He observed Raoul actually shaking his head, choosing to dismiss the thought of a fellow predator in his midst and moved towards the chimera's blood red liquefied enclosure.

He had little time to retrieve the records which still sat in the back of the Chief of Medical Sciences' Syndicate vehicle. That task must be performed first, then and only then, would he attend the quixotic mongrel currently burying his grief and confusion in several exotic liqueurs.

Far too many on a near empty stomach and a body that had recently undergone a minute genetic recall in the form of memory, it had begun. It was just a function of time now. He intended to accelerate the process and potentially winning favour at last for removing the one obstacle to his Master's benighted affections.

**Author's Note**

Yes, I know, a rather long chapter, but it is my sincere hope that you enjoyed. Had to make up for the two to three week absence. So many letters in the alphabet and so little time (chuckle) and tiresome, sometimes emotive males to pacify. I did name this chapter Maelstrom for a reason. Honey, the wars have truly begun.

It is wonderfully sunny and bright out there. Gonna parttake and begin the next chapter, which in truth belongs to this one, but I am tired of labelling chapters A and B. It will hold its own. See you relatively soon.

Anyway, let me know.

**EP**


	26. Chapter 25

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **25** of ?

**Reviews are fuel.**

_"All of life can be broken down into moments of transition or moments of revelation ... _

_There is a greater darkness than the one we fight. It is a darkness of the soul that has lost its way. The war we fight is not against powers and principalities. It is against chaos and despair. Greater than the death of flesh is the death of hope, the death of dreams. Against this peril we can never surrender. The future is all around us, waiting in moment of transition, to be born in moment of revelation. No one knows the shape of that future or where it will take us. _

_**We know only that it is always born in pain**__." _

**G'Kar – Babylon 5**

**Chapter 25** of ? – **A Change of Perspective** (Post OVA)

Their flutes clinked companionably amidst the din and flow of the milling throng of upper caste guests and a handful of Elites. Raoul despised the unctuous tones and unsolicited pleasantries. One more hour of this and he could call it a fitting night, taking the moody mongrel with him.

"An excellent showing would you not say, Sir Am, possibly the best in years?"

"Undoubtedly."

Raoul's brow furrowed as he looked to the top tier of the building towards the muted glow of the observation box. Katze and Admon had been deeply engaged in conversation at the bar. Perhaps they were up there, orchestrating the final transactions. Yes, that had to be it. Not something he had ever given thought to, but as mongrel, the broker's place would not be amidst the dignitaries and privileged guests, though the maestro of the entire event.

The low born knew their place. No point upsetting order. A first Raoul realized this juxtaposition of thought. A year in the making and its chief orchestrator in absentia, unwelcomed simply because he was only fit for servicing their needs, it irked strangely. The champagne sipped suddenly tasted bilious at the thought.

"Sir Am?"

More of that unctuous tone, most jarring to his ear and right next to him too. Was it not enough that he had acknowledged the wretched little man? Must he invade the little personal space left to him by listing to the right? He would simply never forgive Iason for putting him in this manner of predicament.

Where was Katze?

Raoul looked down at the well upholstered little man beaming up at him with a fixed inquiring stare. One of Midas' esteemed citizenry with a licentious predilection for dangerous toys. The Blondie suppressed a shudder, fully aware of what the citizen in question was bidding on and its destined use.

Perverse did not cover it. That sweaty press of palm in greeting, felt even through glove, was sufficient to put the Elite off any further physical contact with the reprehensible being.

"If you don't mind me saying so, Sir Am, you look pre-occupied. Are you expecting someone? Your eyes have not left the main entrance since the bidding began."

The Elite shrugged noncommittally more interested in Donovan's distinctive frame that came into view across the room. Their eyes made contact his face remained expressionless as always while haunting the periphery of the crowded main floor, mouth moving every now and then.

Raoul's own lips took on the shape of a pensive moue. Undoubtedly the minder was giving orders to the wait staff, whose jackets all had suspicious bulges under their left arms.

Leave nothing to chance.

Raoul chuckled to himself, caressing the stem of his glass. "If you will excuse me Mr...?" The Elite looked suitably aggrieved at having mislaid the citizen's name. "Your name escapes me."

"Paisley. Call me Mark, if that is easier, Sir Am. I run the ..." the little man beamed, though his eyes darkened markedly with veiled annoyance. His classification tag was right on his lapel as the first order of clientele. Only a specialized few on the list had right of refusal. He was someone and did not merit that blank supercilious stare.

The Elite's lips curled as he waved dismissively at the protracted exposition of rank and profession. The man was a drone. No wonder he had to pay for it. He would bore all potential lovers to death on sight alone.

"Yeeeeeeeeees, right, well must refresh my drink. I believe _your_ item will be shown next. Do find your proxy. He was hovering about here a minute ago, looking limp and unused. We cannot have that now, can we?"

Paisley's face flushed indignantly, acknowledging the Elite's dismissive tone. He reached for his handkerchief to dab the beads of nervous anticipatory sweat from his upper lip.

"Do you find it warm in here, Sir Am?"

Raoul's fixed disdainful gaze became malicious. "Actually no, quite temperate considering the body count."

It was just too easy and he would not resist, someone had to pay for his current growing disquiet.

"A word of caution, Mr ... your name again? Oh never mind," his elegant brows furrowing momentarily as he strove to find the right words, it was only right to warn the greasy little being whose pores ran so freely.

"The scent of sweat can be off putting for that particular species." The Elite leaned forward, regretting the move instantly. Ripe sweat mingled with less than subtle aftershave wafted to his nostrils. "Do be careful whilst...engaged. Rather sharp claws."

The man gulped audibly, his voice becoming pubertal. "But it was my understanding it has no teeth and is blind!"

"Yes." Raoul murmured studying the precise movements of Katze's minder. "It would have to be."

"I beg your pardon, Sir Am?"

Raoul sipped, ignoring the moderated but definitely indignant tone. He returned his attentions to the man with a disdainful sniff. "Just an observation, since your pores appear to run freely and your sweat's odour is decidedly pungent," the Elite inclined his head, feigning sudden bonhomie with a wink.

"You need not thank me. It would have been entirely remiss in my professional capacity as Chief Medical Official of Amoi in not informing you of the possible perils of your intended purchase."

"Well I never!"

"Really? Well, that explains a great deal in retrospect. One assumed you had taken great pains with your toilette, what with the liberal application of suspect unguents upon your _esteemed_ personage."

It really was too rich watching the rapidly retreating waddle of the disgruntled patron.

Such a shame there wasn't an actual audience worthy of this little social encounter. It was simply too rich. Katze would have enjoyed this form of slow torture exacted upon a less than favoured, but well heeled patron. The game was wearing thin, however, time for more enforced circulation. His presence gave the Auction validity. Two more circuits and his job was done.

Raoul's eyes narrowed maliciously. Iason had a lot to answer for. Relieving him of this disreputable patron's credits, however fleeting the satisfaction, did alleviate the growing tension in his temples.

What was Katze doing up there, cloistered in the ambient darkness of the observation box with that sycophantic droid?

Donovan's bald pate again, closer now, they needed to speak. In the last few minutes a marked presence was beginning to be felt and seen, however subtly, with the growing numbers of shielded wait staff, silently patrolling.

Katze's crew were herding the guests, looking for slightest indication of trouble amidst the crowd of well healed clientele and their obsequious hangers on, employed for the afternoon.

Their sole purpose to proxy the silent bids for the coveted, highly illegal items on display.

Something was up, too many guards quietly gathering.

The Elite had no doubt that each guest's financial history or more precisely the size and validity of their accounts were being combed in triplicate by his mongrel. Still there was something else in the flat gazes being levelled at the more boisterous of participants, who had perhaps imbibed too much in their enthusiasm.

Something or someone had caused the sudden flurry. Just for a moment, pale emerald green studied the box overhead with growing trepidation. Not a feeling he was use to, but that private space beckoned for all the wrong reasons, Admon chiefly amongst them.

His gut clenched as his feet quickly carried him forward to the next tier, the crowd parting in his wake.

"There you are, Raoul. I was beginning to wonder where you were."

The Blondie's shoulders stiffened as he slowly turned registering that familiar deep, enticing lilt.

Some things never changed, Raoul thought, gazing into bright amber pools devoid of warmth and any real pull or mystery of depth worth pluming.

"Niiro?" Raoul inclined his head a fraction, finally understanding the sudden inexplicable rise of armed guards. Katze had anticipated the Ruby and his substantial entourage's arrival.

"What? No spectacle to mark your entrance? You are slipping, Nii Nii."

The Ruby's well modulated laugher echoed in the tier calling instant attention to them both, silencing the room.

"Then again...you have always had impeccable timing for these things." Raoul waved decorously towards the pre-arranged seating that had remained empty until now, directly below the sight of the monitoring station above.

Katze was nothing, if not cautious. Observe without being observed, always the mark of real power in any situation. It was invariably the weak that needed to be seen and admired as they preened.

**~~~BMR~~~**

"Your Master's interesting, Admon, _veeeery_ interesting." Katze slurred noncommittally, languidly crossed long, silk clad legs, studying the main monitor through the amber haze of his snifter with narrowed eyes.

The redhead inhaled deeply of the amber liquid, attempting to decipher each aromatic note cast by the strange melange of fruit upon his palette as the viscous concoction coated his tongue.

"How so?" Admon asked carefully. Katze's body language reminded him of a feline about to strike its unsuspecting prey. He would need to be cautious in his responses to the male in question. He would give him no reason to pounce in his current state.

Katze purred softly enjoying how the distilled liquid slid warmly down his throat, imparting a haze of contentment he did not actually feel at his core.

"Allurian brandy, your favourite I believe." Admon stated softly, observing the paced manner with which the broker sipped while focussing his undivided attention on the monitor.

Pale eyes briefly scanned the android's flawless face and smiled foregoing a reply to the attempt at silver-tongued pleasantries. He downed the last of the amber liquid instead.

"He is very much like you in many respects, Mr. Katze. You both enjoy control to the 'nth degree, even to your respective detriment."

The dealer snorted inelegantly and pivoted his armchair fully towards the exquisite male who had been quietly responding to him from the banked seating area against the wall.

"Don't try it on, Admon. I'm not in the mood for one of your seductions."

Jewel toned eyes were at half mast beneath the cloak, observing the overly cautious way the dealer had placed the delicate crystal upon the desk. Katze was half way to being uncharacteristically soused.

"Yet."

Katze ignored the invitation. "Be useful. Get me a refill."

"No, respectfully, you've had enough."

Admon reclined more deeply into the banked lounge, his face falling in shadow.

"He's not on his game, your precious master." Katze slurred lazily, returning his full concentration to the screen. "He's trying too hard."

"Yes he is as are you, in your attempt to forget."

"Get me a refill, Admon." Katze repeated softly, smoothing long fingers down the side of his jacket in search of smokes, finding them but no incendiary device to light said. The cigarette hung from his lips slackly, while the mongrel was lost again in thought.

"Fuckin' idiot, he's got him eating out of his hands. What more does he want?" Katze murmured almost to himself.

Admon elegantly raised himself from the couch and silently padded across to the dealer, weighing the pros and cons of further challenging his de-facto owner. His inner sleeve billowed softly with the slightest of movement as he retrieved the lighter.

"You left it at the bar."

Katze eyed the android speculatively and raised his hand to the unmarred countenance, gently removing the cowl that hid Admon's beautiful face from view. "He did this right anyway."

Sleepy amber eyes grew contemplative with each stroke of finger tip over warm, enticing skin.

"Remember your face and body are your calling cards in this business, Admon. Never hide your assets."

Admon smiled demurely, basking in the compliment and the delicate touch. "Thank you, Katze. It pleases me that you find me physically to your liking."

Warm amber pools became steely citrine, "Yeah but not that duplicitous mind of yours. All now you are wondering what your next move is in this artful attempt at seduction."

"I live to serve you, Master."

Katze snorted, smoothing a single digit down the flawless cheek of the android, allowing the warm fingers of the Karinese to remove the unlit cigarette from between his teeth without argument.

"See, that practiced blush you've got goin'? That's hot." The dealer tapped the smooth opalescent skin of Admon's cheek in warning, yanking him forward by the cowl to his knees.

"It's wasted on me, though."

The failed attempt at malevolent warning was quickly quashed by the dealer's roving eyes that belied his words, his gaze having fallen to Admon's full lips.

Admon registered the shift of demeanour and licked them slowly, placing the unlit cigarette between soft lips, observing contentedly the redhead blinking in disbelief. Warm yellow light caressed the mongrel's patrician features, the scar an angry line in contrast to otherwise perfect alabaster skin as the android inhaled the biting smoke.

Katze felt inexplicably warm, suddenly conscious of their proximity and the pleasing scent of the male kneeling between his legs. Raoul had his own back. Maybe the afternoon wouldn't be such a waste. His mouth was beautiful, soft, inviting. Not like he had anything else to do at the moment.

"Why aren't you down there with him? I did give you that option once he returned."

"I choose you." Admon responded, quelling the urge to vomit as he inhaled the noxious smoke again and delicately coughed.

"No, you don't. You're terrified of being rejected. He's made no effort to contact you since his arrival, has he?"

Katze eyes narrowed at the lack of response. Maybe Admon was just another sucker for punishment like himself and for what? What had he gained, really?

Admon felt gentle fingers against his mouth retrieving the vile papered tube, and warm breath; He sighed registering the brush of lips; exceedingly soft, warm lips against the side of his mouth. The Karinese leaned forward exulting in the touch of those fingers petting silken strands and the accepted the knowing chuckle for what it was against his cheek. It was now or never.

He turned into the caress, his lips seeking that of the dealer's in a tentative kiss in response. Katze stiffened. His feelings were clearly not reciprocated.

"Go, Admon. You don't have to do this. I don't want you."

Katze heard it, but did not know what to make of the preternatural growl that grew in cadence as ruby eyes stared into his and the cigarette was dashed from his hand in a fit of pique.

Again to be rejected by a chosen, _the_ Chosen – unacceptable.

Grasping Katze's shoulders, Admon crushed the dealer's mouth beneath his, forcing his tongue between rigidly pursed lips, savouring the sweet mouth stolen by another as they tumbled inelegantly to the floor.

This had not been the response anticipated or wanted, Katze told himself, suddenly kissing back fiercely. Maybe it was just the alcohol induced haze coupled with the flow of adrenalin fiercely pumping through his own veins that brought about this overwhelming need to control, supplant, and suppress the male whose tongue importunately invaded his mouth with growing urgency.

He felt dizzy as warm lips devoured his in artless desperation amidst the pitched battle of limbs, wrenched clothing and pent frustration. Again circumstance was attempting to wrest control from him.

Not this time. He bit Admon's lower lip, holding fast to the soft tissue between his teeth and tugged at the silken mass at the base of Admon's skull. To the broker's dismay, the salty taste of blood upon his lips appealed sending sensual shivers through his body taking final root in his groin.

The dealer hissed suckling the bruised and bleeding flesh between his lips, perversely fascinated by the telltale tightening of his lower gut and the sensual twitch of his own limbs in response to Admon's soft keen of acquiescence to his commanding touch.

This was getting out of hand.

Katze shoved with renewed strength against Admon's chest, forcing him to his back in their tussle for supremacy. The dealer straddled him, locking Admon's arms in place against his heaving sides in the short lived victory.

The dealer could not help but notice the enticing pearlescent beads of sweat that covered the exposed well sculpted chest and his own current dishabille. Despite the fucker's lithe appearance, Admon's body was all hard, beautifully proportioned muscle beneath soft supple skin.

Kato had been right. Katze panted wiping sweat from his brow and tried desperately to ignore the rapid flow of blood engorging his cock at the sight of so perfect a specimen. There was a serpent in their midst; a serpent equally aroused, if the slow suggestive grinding at his rear was anything to go by. Katze had to admit, in his partially inebriated state, he liked what he saw.

Eyes at half mast, the Karinese purred in victory. He could smell the intoxicating scent of adrenalin and feel how it affected the tightly coiled muscles above him shivering with anger, want and just a hint of no longer dormant curiosity at his daring. He had played this right after all, engendering lust in the mongrel straddling him with a predatory gleam in sun-kissed eyes.

Such a very fine line between aggression and lust, Admon mused abstractedly as the filmy material of his cloak was unceremoniously rent by surprisingly strong fingers that dug into his flesh unmercifully. This was it, he affirmed in his mind's eye, allowing one other to see his surrender to the raw heat overtaking the mongrel in his personal bid for supremacy.

**~~~ BMR~~~**

Ajna's step faltered though her target was in sight. His dissolute gaze said it all at the moment. Guy was exceedingly attractive in an uncouth way, she would admit with mild interest in jewel toned eyes. Long limbed, twitchy, and though circumspect in nature as he imagined himself to be, no one could miss his current prurient delight. Yes, he was thoroughly fascinated by the Pet on display. Its disproportionate genitalia and multiple orifices had caused quite the stir, setting off a bidding war amongst off world brothel owners.

It came again, the call. Ajna blocked it. It was a foolish gambit on her sibling's part, but one she had no doubt he found enjoyable, judging by the static in his aura. At least he had acquired the device as ordered. There would be praise in that. The mongrel hadn't had time to decipher its true purpose or import to their cause.

Her staff reflexively connected with a prominent forehead amidst the swirl of vermillion material that finally came to rest, draped suggestively about her form. She looked down into the frightened eyes of the patron whose hands had not been invited to caress her derriere and sniffed before adjusting her cowl, leaving just enough cleavage on display for her purposes.

'_Tiresome. They were all so tiresome in their never ending sense of entitlement and inherent quest to debase and own what they thought prey.'_

Moment had, she stepped over the prone male of questionable genetic heritage, judging by the weak flaccid chin and allowed the curious crowd of onlooker to close around him in her wake, intent on her previous course.

Guy was another matter entirely. If required, he would be allowed to caress. In this instance, he was prey, but did not know it - yet.

**~~~ BMR~~~**

Raoul's eidetic brain, sifted through the convoluted speech of his brethren, nodding where appropriate as piercing green eyes drifted across the floor below, noting with mild amusement the kerfuffle near the bar caused by the exceptionally beautiful Karinese female, the property of the loquacious and overly tactile Ruby at his side.

The Elite's lips curved in a deprecating smile and continuing to nod where appropriate adding the odd word of encouragement to keep the Ruby entertained. Why was she approaching that miscreant Guy?

"I'm boring you, Raoul? You seem overly fascinated by my servant." Sir Niiro said with a lilt of petulance, not met by the citrine eyes that bore into emerald green.

Oh dear, Raoul thought chiding himself mentally, his last interjection had been said aloud.

"No, Sir Niiro, just mildly curious as to her purpose in all this? You always have a game plan."

A long elegant hand attempted to soothe the Blondie's suddenly twitching thigh muscles beneath his bared fingers. "Sooooooo suspicious, Raoul. They do think for themselves, you know. Perhaps she thirsts."

Raoul's gaze flickered to the uninvited hand caressing his thigh and pointedly crossed long, powerfully muscled legs as he stretched and adjusted his position, causing the hand to fall gracelessly from his inner thigh. That hand had been slowly creeping during the conversation with each upward stroke of finger tips.

It was enough. His skin had begun to subtly crawl with revulsion at the unwanted intimacy. The mistakes of a curious youth would not be repeated.

"I have no doubt she thirsts as do all here, but in this instance, for what?"

Sir Niiro chuckled pleasantly, accepting another flute from the passing wait staff. The smile did not meet flat, deadly amber. He hoped Admon met with much success in his current less than selfless endeavours.

**~~~ BMR~~~**

The unrelenting, rhythmic cadence of hot sweat slicked flesh meeting echoed in the silent dimly lit room, whose only source of light came from the monitors. The desk almost buckled from the force of Katze's thrusts into the willing, near supine body below his as narrowed eyes observed the liberties taken by the Ruby. That constant caress of a thigh, he considered his until recently, serving only to increase his frenetic need for acquisition and ultimate culmination.

Undignified though it was to have his trousers about his knees, while strong fingers adjusting the set of hips for better penetration, he revelled. Admon's muffled mewls with his cheek pressed hard against the wood desk's surface, called to the most base of instinctual pleasure in his quest for completion.

There had been no time to prepare Admon, nor did he care really, as that ring of tightly coiled muscle surrendered in a satisfactory manner to his wilful thrust within the snug, slick orifice. The android's body welcomed the invasion, despite the pained cry that came from his panting mouth with each punishing stroke.

Katze closed his eyes, surrendering to the forbidden delight, the power, the heat and the tremble of the body beneath his. Damn it felt good and yet, just in passing, the thought of Raoul invaded the less than sacred space he and Admon shared.

Of long sensual limbs, his scent, his voice, the feel of his skin, the warmth he did not feel now as his testicles tightened and his lower belly filled with the heat of coming fruition.

The mongrel's jaw slackened as he gave of his essence copiously into the pliant body, no longer that of Admon beneath him, but Raoul.

Katze blinked thoroughly confused by the thought, and the reason he had finally cum.

**Author's Note**

Blame my muse. I seem to have a knack for never finishing a chapter in a timely fashion. The epic continues. I do hope you enjoyed. This one cost me a night of sleep, but I hope you find it worthy for a read.

Until next time.

**ElegantPaws**


	27. Chapter 26

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **26** of ?

**Reviews are fuel.**

_"If you love, love without reservation. If you fight, fight without fear."_

**The Way of the Warrior**

**Chapter 26** of ? – **Entropy** (Post OVA)

He was early. Iason had demanded it. Iason always demanded, regardless of the subtlety employed in his eloquent delivery.

The request for his presence had one proviso. The Chief Medical Officer of Tanagura was to arrive at the penthouse unannounced during the new Furniture's allotted bi-weekly respite from his duties. The Furniture would be alone since the Pets of the Mink household frequented the salon on those days for their own form of social interaction.

Raoul was simply asked to observe and report what he found. A simple enough task, the Elite supposed. It seemed Katze never left the penthouse on those days, preferring to remain indoors. This had been the fuel for Iason's suspicions as to the young Furniture's suitability to the role, though vouchsafed by Sir Niiro.

No doubt Iason was being paranoid. Then again as head of the Syndicate, his enemies were, in truth, legion. Raoul would humour him just this once for the sake of their friendship.

Iason's misgivings had grown as the weeks turned into months. Now bound and determined to catch the male in question at some manner of nefarious activity, despite his perfect record and evident skills that defied his Excellency's irrational qualms.

"It is in his gaze, Raoul. Something about his regard does not sit well. I need proof of his duplicity. Who better to affirm my suspicions but a geneticist and friend?"

Annoyed at the interruption to his day, Raoul keyed the digits softly while his mind wandered to more pressing matters beyond his brethren's quixotic fancies of possible misdeeds on the Furniture's part.

Seriously, all the wretched creature had to do was tend the three existing pets and general housekeeping. It was Iason's fault entirely that he had not gotten the evidence he needed. A camera or two would have sufficed, but no, not in his Excellency's residence.

Raoul sighed with frustration. Spying was hardly his métier. There was something distasteful in the act and well below his station.

He sniffed the air upon entering the main living space. A subtle aroma came wafting to his nostrils. Not unpleasant per say, more exotic in nature and definitively food. His salivary glands began to show interest as he followed his nose toward the source of the promising gastronomic delights.

It was definitely coming from direction of the hallway that led to the Pet's quarters and that of their keeper, the Furniture.

A faint melody beckoned too. It seems all his senses were to be engaged this day. First that mouth watering scent and now a haunting instrumental of clearly alien origins, coiling sensually to his ears, leaving him with a languid feeling.

Humming?

That was unexpected. Not particularly melodious but in time with the chords. His discerning ears heard the swish of material and the clatter of cutlery being set upon a surface the closer he came to the Furniture's own quarters.

Raoul stilled outside the partially open door, where radiant sunlight lit flame coloured damp hair as the Furniture pirouetted about the room in a highly inappropriate manner, having completed his task.

The Elite cocked his head in consternation, noting the elegant, rather young being's sway. No more than seventeen, if looks were to be believed. An aesthetically pleasing specimen, but then, Iason would have it no other way.

He watched Katze catch his breath, looking about the room with pleasure before flopping into the well worn chair by the window and curling his legs under him. Raoul stepped back a fraction, just in case, noting in his sudden caution the fact that he had not taken a breath recently, so caught was he by the appearance of the castrate.

A lovely creature unadorned in a simple white robe that only emphasized the lean yet well built form and the long neck that protruded from the collar. It was the hair that most caught his attention. It had a life of its own in its glow, casting an angelic light upon a truly exceptional face for a mongrel.

Katze, he believed his name was, looked surprisingly pleased and contented with his borrowed world. Most un-Furniture like, the grace of those long, elegant fingers that had apparently secreted something under a cushion and now found it with a secretive smile; a book, Raoul's eyes grew wide.

The thin voile curtains billowed touching the high cheek boned face, whose owner became pre-occupied as deceptively soft, amber lit eyes greedily absorbing the words of the page into his soul. He appeared to be on the last few pages.

Raoul was taken aback at the sight and felt somewhat ill as unwanted voyeur. This was the secret? The wicked machination that threatened to overthrow Amoi's best and brightest; a Furniture taking rest from the usual tedium of his life?

He too enjoyed the odd diverting read and an excellent merlot, though his was not ill gotten gains. That vintage came from Iason's private cellar. Raoul shook himself. There was no point justifying the theft. This would be reported, but still, hardly an egregious offence.

It was then Raoul's eyes fell upon the cover of the leather bound text with a cold chill – _**'The Positronic Brain: Creating Sentience – Dr Katzen Wolf'**_.

Raoul knew this volume well. Not only was it an antique, book two of three to be exact, but it had been a gift from Raoul to Iason two years prior. More than likely never read, but taken in good graces.

He worried his chin with a single gloved digit as he recalled the mongrel's expression with inward gazing eyes. The chill returned. Not possible; Just co-incidence, the names or for the matter his appearance.

Tipping back from the doorway, Raoul headed for Iason's library just to be sure, somewhat confused by the mixture of surprise and affront that warred within his mind. What in Jupiter was this servile doing? He could not possibly understand what he was reading. Could he? Had he taken it by mistake or some fanciful egoistic drive while dusting the tomes?

Raoul fingered the volumes and found the space occupied. His eyes narrowed. Brilliant really considering that Iason would not notice its absence with a volume of similar colour, density and height in its place. He took it down and carefully opened volume one to the back leaf. Just for a moment, the Elite's heart skipped a beat at her appearance.

Niiro was playing games again. This was not funny in the least. Had he tampered with this Furniture to make a point? Few knew he had purloined select specimens of the First One's DNA codes with Raoul's able assistance.

His brethren was once again overstepping well beyond his appointed caste and task. As it was, Iason tolerated Sir Niiro's interests on the off chance that his covert experimentations might prove profitable.

Raoul shook his head allowing his mind's eye to study those intelligent, exotically tilted citrine eyes. They were like amber jewels, hauntingly iridescent in their light. He would have to speak with Niiro about this mongrel's anomalous behaviour.

Implicit in the expression of those mesmerizing golden eyes was actual comprehension of rather advanced scientific theory for its time.

The Elite's brows furrowed in deep thought, his hand still upon the first volume as he processed and tried desperately to comprehend what he had just seen in that flawless and decidedly intelligent countenance that bore more than a striking resemblance to the woman on the back cover. He returned the mismatched book to its rightful place.

Not possible. They were not bred to this. Something was amiss. The science of it should have stymied a mongrel of Ceres. As mongrels they were given the barest essentials of what passed for education in Midas for slum dwellers. Encapsulated within these three volumes were the foundations of bio-mechanical theory as laid down by the First One herself, Dr. Katzen Wolf, Amoi's progenitor and Jupiter's creator.

**~~~BMR~~~**

The hum was closer now as was the scent of some equally exotic melange Raoul assumed was freshly brewed tea combined with the faint bouquet of cologne, fastidious creature.

Again not strictly a crime in and of itself, just simply unexpected in a decorative menial such as a Furniture; that was a Pet's prerogative, as sanctioned by its Master.

The Blondie hurriedly replaced the volume just as the library door opened fully and a loud yelp echoed in the room announcing the much thought about Furniture's presence.

Raoul's gaze fixed on movements of a porcelain cup, whose liquid contents precariously skimmed the rim as it slid from the saucer heading for the carpeting and truly frightened amber peered up at him in a deafeningly silent scream.

He intercepted its downward trajectory with ease, but alas, not before it had done a modicum of damage to his tunic and marred a pristine white glove. He ignored the scalding heat that seeped through the silken layers with knitted gilt brows and thinned lips.

The terror in those eyes had been worth the discomfort. Katze knew he had been caught.

Perhaps this afternoon's journey hadn't been a total waste of his skills. Discipline is what these creatures needed when they extended themselves beyond their appropriate reach. The Furniture lowered his head and crumpled to his knees in abject apology.

The Blondie did note the protective hand that closed the robe, where an object was being held close to the mongrel's chest.

"What have you there, Furniture?" Raoul pointed accusingly with sopping glove.

Katze whimpered. "Nothing of consequence, Sir, may I please attend you? I hadn't heard you enter."

"**_That_**..." the Blondie stated, giving the demur male a quick once over, "is patently obvious, little mongrel. Yes you most certainly will." The Blondie's expression remained stony as the elegant creature rose and slowly approached the obviously irritated Elite.

Raoul's mind began to wander taking in the pleasingly graceful lines of the form before him.

Katze, despite his origins, could easily be mistaken for an Academy grade Pet, interesting. Well proportioned limbs, respectable height, symmetrical features and truly flawless ivory skin that seemed to glow in the warm sunlight. Not even a freckle atop the bridge of his patrician nose.

Most disconcerting, though he supposed this occurred naturally on occasion.

Raoul almost felt giddy with delight. His thorough inspection had finally netted a flaw in that near perfect countenance. The mouth was a bit too sharp. The upper lip though beautifully formed was somewhat thinner than strictly proportionally correct unlike the bottom which was lush in contrast.

Unbeknownst to the Elite, his speculative expression had been observed by the mongrel beneath thick auburn, lashes. "Sir Am?"

He found himself biting his own unconsciously as the lips in question moved in a disembodied way. The Elite was only marginally aware that actual sound was emanating from those lips of current preoccupation. In fact, he could tell it was a rather rich baritone and well modulated too if given full voice instead of the feigned docile timbre currently being used to appease.

"Sir Am? I humbly apologize for causing, this...it is my hope that..." Katze faltered now that he stood in front of the Elite and tightened his grip about his robe.

Raoul sighed in irritation looking down at his soiled tunic then at the not quite cowering Furniture with bowed head. He had three choices as to how to proceed.

One, make the mongrel grovel at his feet. That was pleasing.

Two, he could forcibly remove the shielded book from the lithe male's grasp while enjoying the sight of him becoming emotionally unhinged at the very real prospect of punitive action on the part of his owner, and summary dismissal; equally pleasing.

And then there was three, the most delectable option of them all and a punitive action that he himself could rightfully exact, considering.

"Come here." The Elite inhaled with deep satisfaction. Amidst the subtle scents of soapy unguents and freshly scrubbed skin was the delightfully invigorating piquancy of fear.

Raoul opted for three, while his eyes roved freely over the now quivering form that stood in front of him.

"One assumes the guest quarters are free currently?"

Katze blinked in confusion, but never raised his eyes, keeping his own counsel. "Yes, Sir Am?"

"Prepare me a bath while you affect repairs to my personal attire, discretely of course. One would not wish your grave faux pas to leave this room, what with you idling away your free time reading books without permission."

The Furniture looked up directly into the Elite's eyes accusingly for the briefest of moments.

Oh there it was, the gaze Iason had mentioned, just a flash of it mind. Those deep amber pools were diffident, watchful and calculating in their narrow, angry appraisal.

A slow malicious smile graced Raoul's full lips. He would be punished for that too.

"You might wish to return the volume to its proper place first of course before decanting that vintage I seem to have spotted in your quarters from Iason's private stock, no doubt? Waste not. Want not."

Cool control returned almost instantly as the mongrel bowed deeply before revealing the tome in question from beneath his robe and cautiously reached up above the Elites head, placing the book in its proper place silently. Raoul closed his eyes and inhaled the mongrel's beguiling natural scent. It hadn't been cologne.

"Thank you, Sir Am. Might I ask something?" Katze barely murmured between pursed lips.

The demur lilt was missing in the cunningly formed question. Raoul smiled. "I've already returned the other volume to its rightful place, out of sight out of mind and all that?"

He watched with amusement the mongrel's quick furtive glance caste to the spot mentioned three shelves down behind the armchair Iason favoured.

"I shall see to your needs immediately, Sir Am."

Raoul nodded his approval and steadied himself, disquieted by the unexpected vague fluttering in his chest at the more dissolute interpretation that could so easily be placed upon the castrate's response.

"If you will give me a few minutes to affect repairs, Sir Am, it would be greatly appreciated?" Katze beseeched quietly not waiting for a response as he retrieved the cup from Raoul's wet, gloved fingers, taking the affected garment with him with one smooth, graceful swipe and headed for the main living space with efficient precision.

Raoul looked down at the sticky palm, wondering why it tingled at his touch.

There was something unnerving in the young male's gait; far too proud of broad, straight back, far too elegant of pace with his long limbs and in no way apologetic for his misdeeds. In reality, he had come for volume three, the last in her series.

A heavy stillness followed the Furniture's exit as he calmed his breathing and meticulously catalogued the stains to be removed from the carpet before seeing to the Elite's other manageable requests for his complicit silence. Cause, it was clearly a deal. He'd have to figure out what the ultimate price was, when time permitted.

Raoul carefully folded long limbs upon the couch, mindful of the still damp silk of both tunic and shirt. Fortunate for the mongrel Katze, only minor cleaning would really be necessary of the front of both.

Something irked in the knowing expression of the Furniture as he left.

In that silence, that barely detectable moment of transition, both had made a decision. The mongrel had made his for survival, accepting the Elite's tacit agreement for what it was; a bargaining chip whose redemption would come at a price he would have to pay and he did it, without flinching in the fraction of a second.

The Elite's lips curled in anger, finally recognizing what had truly irritated in that moment. He, Raoul Am, was being played and he had allowed it and could not fathom why. How did he actually benefit, other than to be tethered to this slum dweller?

What a dangerous little creature. Iason had been quite right, but for all the wrong reasons. Katze was self possessed.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Niiro had good taste.

She was hot. Yeah, he'd give her that.

Donovan's eyes twinkled lasciviously, enjoying the swell of pert breasts, the provocative sway of hips and the length of supple leg revealed from beneath the gossamer thin sheath she wore. It clung to every single curve with each graceful stride.

Ooooh yeah. It _reeeeaaaally_ was a pity he was on duty. He'd like to make her acquaintance in more ways than one. That shaft she carried so lovingly gave him all kinds of ideas about his own. He shook his head. Some fool or other was going to benefit from him being out of commission tonight.

Donovan tapped his ear piece with a lewd smile, intent on calling Guy. He owed the kid a favour. One of them had to enjoy this sight all close and personal. It'd be good practice for the kid too.

Where the fuck was he? He was supposed to be at the bar.

The smile quickly faded from the bodyguard's lips, finally recognizing the hunched figure at the bar. She was making a bee-line straight for the idiot. Guy was just sitting there, nursing a drink, completely fuckin memorized by the fucked up inbred specimen on display.

"Pick up, you undisciplined little shit! She's heading straight for you." Donovan hissed, disconnecting as he headed down the third tier of stairs at a run, barrelling through the crowd.

This one had the kind of self possession he'd rarely seen, except in the Boss. She reminded him of Red in pursuit, nothin' but focussed attention as he bore down on his prey for the kill.

He didn't like the looks of this one damn! All the warning signs were there. Donovan picked up speed.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Raoul's eyes caught the rapid movement through the crowded third tier in his peripheral vision, noting the crowd parting like a wave as Donovan thundered through them heading for the bar.

The Elite stood.

"Call her off, Niiro. Whatever you are planning, call her off before that ill-bred maniac gets to her and this becomes an incident. Do not think for a moment we are not being observed by Jupiter."

Sir Niiro sighed with a bored expression, lazily watching the large well built male dressed in black, heading down the second tier at a fast clip. "Raoul, Raoul, my dear. Why so fascination with them or is it just one in particular?"

Raoul rounded on the Ruby, snarling in his face, broad shoulders tense with aggravation has he hovered over him with menace in his stance.

"I caution this line of discourse, Sir Niiro. You will not appreciate my response if you elect to continue."

Nirro shrugged with feigned innocence, jewel toned eyes twinkling in the dim light.

"So I am right. Still sniffing after that defective specimen?"

Raoul's own lips thinned as even white teeth bit out a retort. "First you will call her off and second you will cease and desist this inappropriate questioning."

"Protecting him still, I see."Another dissolute sigh as elegant fingers were pressed to one temple and long lashes closed over opaque yellow eyes in concentration.

Raoul breathed a sigh of relief, noting the android's abrupt halt in front of the mongrel Guy and the sudden, equal stillness of the minder no longer beating a path to her with raised pistol.

Crisis averted.

That pleasing well modulated lilt brought him out of his reverie. ""Pity, he doesn't appear to hold you in the same regard."

"Meaning?"

The Ruby gestured to the viewing box with his flute, golden bangles about his wrist clinking as if to solidify his point. "See for yourself."

**~~~BMR~~~**

"You read?"

"Yes, Sir."

Katze poured with a suitably bland expression upon his face when the Elite lifted the stemmed crystal glass for the fourth refill, effectively emptying the bottle.

Eyes downcast, the mongrel remained at attention by the bath's side with towels to hand over the arm that held the bottle.

Raoul had not quite enjoyed torturing the wretched creature who bent to his every whim. Whether undressing him, checking the temperature of the water or standing in vigilant silence as he lulled the time away enjoying both music and the warm languor instilled by the libation in question.

Something was missing. It wasn't the servile silence he required but understanding.

"What is the content of your reading matter most often?"

There was a pause as the Furniture took a deep breath and actually fidgeted, most pleasing. The wretched creature had not anticipated the question.

"I do not understand your query, Sir Am?"

Raoul sniffed the dark, fragrant wine, enjoying the notes of warm peaches. He had never actually seen a peach in his life, but he knew its scent by Jupiter's catalogued memory, or was it a nectarine? He closed his eyes taking another sniff to correct the error, enjoying the bitter after taste of the tannin as it reached his palette with a testing sip.

"Oh but you **_do_**. Your interests lie with the First One herself."

Katze shifted on his feet uncomfortably. "Her work is, was, remarkable. She gave us Amoi."

Raoul snorted. "Us?"

"I mean, the Elite, Sir Am. I am confused. Please forgive the error in my speech. I am Furniture."

"Are you really?"

No response. Instead, more fidgeting of long, angular limbs in discomfort at the turn of events and the Elite's penetrating gaze. The damn castrate was blushing. Until now, Raoul hadn't really paid mind to looking at the creature who had been watching him beneath those ridiculously long lashes.

"Yes Sir."

"Rather complex reading matter. Do you understand what you have read?"

"Somewhat. I understand the premise, Sir Am." Katze shrugged, taking the opportunity to turn and place the empty bottle and the indifferently handed glass upon the tray on the vanity as the Elite rose to his full height, entirely naked.

Raoul's eyes narrowed speculatively, tossing his thick damp mane, amused as the castrate's gaze remained on his torso and greedily followed the path of the rivulets of water before attempting to hand the towel to the Elite.

The Blondie raised his arms instead and waited with more patience than he felt, glad of the chill in the air.

You couldn't castrate the mind. Rather cruel that, Raoul thought absently with sudden pride at being appreciated physically, even by a mongrel.

Wrapping the towel efficiently about the Elite's waist, Katze inclined his head, effectively pointing to the dressing space where the freshly tended garments lay. "I will leave you to dress, Sir Am. Will you require anything further?"

Again the fleeting thought as he regarded those lips and felt the residual warmth of fingers about his midsection. This wasn't good. He needed to get out of here.

Perhaps it had not been the best of ideas to have removed his own Pets not having time for their titillating performances meant to quell the dormant sexual thirst of his kind. It had never been a challenge before or even a sustained thought.

Twice now his thoughts had ventured beyond good form, laced with a desire to be touched. An idle bargain meant for his amusement had turned exacting its own price in awareness and need.

Katze _was_ dangerous.

"You will dress me."

"Yes Sir."

**~~~BMR~~~**

Raoul's gaze rose with foreboding to the box and the tall shadowed presence standing by the outer railing looking on with smug satisfaction upon the crowd.

The Elite's heart began to race as he strove to control his breathing while adrenalin coursed through his body unchecked causing him to tremble. He moved forward unseeing beyond the object of his loathing whose long, elegant fingers held fast the rent cloak, while fingering the material suggestively.

Even in the dim light, the Elite could see the glint of crimson orbs beneath the sundered cowl that haphazardly framed Admon's perfectly malevolent regard.

'_Where was Katze?_'

Raoul quickened his strides, pushing a few patrons out of his way, his teeth grinding in anger, taking in the flush of pale skin the closer he came and the unruly mess of strawberry blonde curls, no longer a perfect cascade of studied coils.

Their eyes locked in unspoken battle.

Emerald eyes searching with growing desperation the ruby depths staring back at him, unapologetic and unafraid as the Elite reached him. The pincer like grip that held his throat as he was flung back into the observation room at the mongrel's feet, would change nothing.

Raoul was confused.

Admon smiled, selecting to remain where put, basking in the roiling emotions felt by the infuriated Blondie who glared at the mongrel accusingly.

Katze sighed and chuckled looking down at the supplicating droid at his feet. "Leave us, Admon. Wait outside. This won't take long."

He was proud of his new Master who inhaled deeply before releasing a thin plume of smoke, meeting the Elite's regard with focussed indifference before turning and casually flicking the spent butt into the ashtray.

Without even a perceptible blink, the dealer inclined his head as protocol dictated.

"Sir Am? What might I do for you?"

Raoul bristled, beginning to pace the outer rim of the room like a caged beast in search of control.

Yes, it was best to leave them now. Rectification was inevitable, Admon thought, closing the door quietly behind him, just as the Elite lunged for the dealer.

**Author's Note**

***_Hides behind hands with twinkling naughty eyes_*** Yes. I am wicked for leaving you all there. I promise. It is worth it. Let me know how you liked the chapter. Rather enjoyed this one immensely. The next one. Holy Crap!

**EP**


	28. Chapter 27

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **27** of ?

**Reviews are fuel.**

_"_ _No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it."_

**The Way of the Warrior**

**Chapter 27** of ? – **Diaspora** (Post OVA)

"Defend yourself!"

Katze's opaque gaze fixed on the Elite implacably as one finger extended and poked Raoul's chest defiantly.

"Why? I've done nothing wrong, Sir Am. Admon is mine to do with as I see fit."

If he touched the frail being now he would surely kill him, but the prodding was maddening.

The damn mongrel did not even have the good graces to cower in the face of insurmountable odds in hopes of a reprieve. Raoul's gut clenched as he strove to control the coiled fury within as he regarded the digit touching his chest with malevolence.

He wanted to snap the fine boned wrist and the man attached in two.

That hand had touched Admon intimately. Raoul quashed the thought. "Stop touching me, Katze. I'm a hairs breadth from ending your pathetic existence."

Wanton disrespect that is what that was. Katze had turned away from him and was fiddling with the monitors, zooming in on the furious Ruby wilfully glared back into the camera. He knew he was being watched.

"Yeah whatever, Raoul, Sir Niiro looks seriously pissed off," Katze retorted sharply indicating the monitor with a gesture of his chin. "I'd see about that before he breaks a blood vessel, he's somehow disrupting the electronics in this room. How's he doing that, by the way? I don't think he's use to being ignored by anyone, much less his beloved Raoul Am."

It was only meant to be a glancing blow that connected with Katze's stubborn jaw. Just to get his attention, nothing more. Instead it snapped the dealer's head back. Too late to rein in the force and its unintended follow through. The Elite shivered in revulsion as his fist met with the cartilage of the dealer's nose with a horrible crunch.

The sight of blood gushing for the dealer's nose and mouth, spattering his perfectly imperfect face and shirt, froze the Elite as he looked at his glove and the evidence of his sudden, inexplicable irrational brutality.

Katze body rocked from the force of the blow. It was pure stubborn will why his knees did not buckle as he attempted to brace himself against the desk with a white knuckled grip.

Raoul recoiled. His own body growing cold with shock as a trembling hand retrieved his handkerchief without any by your leave and moved closer to the mongrel.

"Feel better now, Sir Am?" Katze murmured working his jaw, closing his eyes to the pain and ignoring the warm sticky feel of blood running down his nose to his mouth. Grabbing the carefully folded white silk material, he dabbed at his nose.

Lackadaisically attempting to shrug the gloved hands that held his shoulders, the mongrel gently prodded his nose with an irritable hiss.

"Fuck Off! I think you broke it!"

Katze patted his lips next as Raoul's grip loosened slightly and examined the soft silky material before carefully folding it to blow his nose with an undignified yelp of pain.

"Oh Katze, I did not mean, to...to."

The dealer glared up at the Elite's face, who was taking a detailed inventory of the damage with a suitably contrite expression. "Save it for someone who gives a shit, Raoul! Let go of me! You've done what you came to do."

Ignoring his outburst the Blondie gently tipped the rapidly swelling chin up and examined the nose with a flat analytical regard, "No, not broken. The septum has been deviated moderately. Nothing the judicious application of ice and a few instruments from one or other of the med-tech's downstairs could not handle. I will see to it myself."

"No fucking thank you! I've had just about enough of being your personal punching bag for the night."

There was nothing to say really, other than to stand there awkwardly, trying to ignore the pervading scent of sweat and that unhallowed musk distinctive of that revolting...

"Your lot never mean half of what you do. Just get out. I'm done, Raoul, playing this fucked up game. I was wrong about you. No better than Iason."

Raoul's eyes narrow dangerously and gloved hands dug into the tense shoulders of the Black Market dealer, pinning him to the desk's edge. "That was uncalled for, Katze. I shall put it down to pain and the obvious disquiet felt by my _professional_ attentions to my brethren."

"Put it down to any fucking thing you like, Sir Am. Since when does professionalism require you to allow someone to cop a feel?"

"I would hardly term, Sir Niiro's rather eclectic sense of comrade..."

The dealer raised his hand.

"Slowly killing me with your bullshit, Raoul, you've another thing coming if you think I'm just gonna take whatever you feel like dishing out without protest. I'm done. Respectfully, Sir Am, go play with someone else."

Dark emerald eyes averted with embarrassment.

"Just leave me the fuck alone."

A cold smile played about the Elite's lips as he stepped back from the livid mongrel. Katze's nearness was interfering with his logic. Still, he was allowed a biting retort.

"You are the one playing games Katze. You are the one that refuses to see the leeway I grant you without thought as to the dangers entailed to my position. By all rights, I could end your life for this little diatribe and no one would question my actions."

Katze stiffened visibly, holding the ruined handkerchief to his nose as he too stepped back and away from the desk and the pervading warmth he felt coming off the Elite. He didn't much like the statement or its implications.

Should he call him on it, he thought moving towards the cooler by the side of the desk and rifled through the bottles, finding the ice pack. It hurt to bend his head but it was better than standing near Raoul who had gotten disquietingly reserved in his regard, almost as he knew what the next move would be.

The gun felt heavy in his jacket pocket. It was called Russian roulette in a bygone era on a distant world, but a damn good way of levelling the untenable playing field, if it came to it. Then again the last time he'd played it with a less than stable client, he had loaded in his own favour. Sequencing and slight-of- hand had won him the bar, unbeknownst to his Excellency.

Messy though, ruined a perfectly good jacket. Raoul didn't deserve that, despite the complications forged by the attraction. He'd find another way to deal.

Katze moaned as the cold pack touched his throbbing jaw, soothing it as he sank down onto the low settee and regarded the Elite quizzically. He'd find another way to deal. The very idea brought with it a desperate unfamiliar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. A loud collective cheer was heard from the monitors trained on the main floor.

The dealer ignored it, no longer interested in the movements of his men doing crowd control as the final Pet for purchase was displayed, signalling the end of the Auction.

"Why did you do it, Katze? Why Admon of all beings? I loathe his creation and purpose. I did warn you about his intent. He is using you to exact vengeance."

Katze snorted in disbelief, adjusting the ice pack as he slouched deeper into the warmth beneath him and watched the Elite silently approach with growing unease. No, he really couldn't do it. Not Raoul. He'd just have to take his chances.

"Relax. It's just sex, Sir Am and none of your concern."

The dealer watched the shifting, subtle emotions playing about the Elite's face as he crouched in front of him with a resigned sigh.

"Why?"

Was this to be round two? Why was the Blondie discarding the bloodied glove and its twin with a determined set to his perfect face?

"Fine, we play it your way. We do not leave this room until you answer me truthfully for once in your recalcitrant life!"

Shrugging the mongrel looked up into still angry, querulous eyes. Raoul had finally gotten a proper grip of his temper, however tenuously. He did ask for the truth. What would he do with it?

"Revenge, as pathetic as that sounds, Sir Am, I was trying to get even with you for crap outside either of our control."

Raoul kneeled in front of the dealer, grasping his splayed knees and shook him in irritation.

"Revenge for what, exactly? Were you dissatisfied with our interlude earlier today?"

Katze's eyes softened. "Hardly. Etched in memory that. We made love, for want of better words."

"Well?" This pleased Raoul, but he needed proof of his suspicions and however painful these unfamiliar emotions, he must know. There would be time to preen about his prowess in sating his mongrel's considerable sexual appetites later. They were well matched sensually.

A wry smile touched blood spattered lips. "If it helps, it back fired big time. Made me realize something I didn't want to face. Still don't."

The Elite's brow arched in question. "You are babbling, Katze. Get to the point."

Katze sighed, hating himself for the gratification he felt as those large warm hands caressed his thighs in silent comfort. "I wanted you, not Admon. Couldn't cum until I imagined it was you writhing beneath me."

'Writhing...you...he...?" he could feel his limbs trembling. He was so sure he had needed the word, but now.

Raoul's teeth began to grind, remembering who was beyond the doorway as he rose abruptly to his feet, only hearing Katze's pleas in passing while he headed for the door. The desperate, vice-like grip that attempted to still his progress quickly dispensed with. That smug look Admon had worn would be short-lived.

Raoul Am did not share his possessions.

Finally, someone, or more accurately, something he could wreck havoc on with no real repercussions, other than displeasing Sir Niiro; the least of his worries.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Obviously humanoid, all those silver tipped gold strands that went on forever. A body that just screamed "fuck toy" by its design and the come hither slant of pale blue eyes were just liquid orbs of petulant enticement. Why the fuck wasn't the Boss in the bidding for this one? He'd give a month's credit to have a crack at that one. Something about the eyes reminded him of that overbearing asshole that held Riki captive in more ways than one.

"Bring it here, honey! I got something for ya." Guy moaned, accentuating the comment by grabbing his own crotch. He wasn't the only one. The noisy appreciative throng were echoing his sentiments. Donovan was seriously gonna get lucky tonight.

Guy gritted his teeth in annoyance. There was that fucker's hand again. The leach had clung to his side at the opposing bar stool. Okay so it had felt good for awhile, but enough was enough. Bison's leader shifted his focus back to the dais.

Fuck he was beautiful and the barely there shift was working for him and all that luminous skin – nice musculature. Wouldn't mind that wrapped around him. Damn! He'd waited all afternoon and well into evening for this sight and it had been worth it.

Reaching for his unfinished drink blindly, Guy slurped the sweet, potent concoction, wasting no time standing on the stool for a better view of what would always remain a fantasy. Weird, but in truth the body on display was trim and this side of perfect, but didn't really hold a candle to Donovan's more masculine build. Weird that his mind would make the comparison, not that he would turn that down if it was in his cot. He'd fuck him into perdition, still.

The shoulder he had placed his soiled boot on protested sharply and attempted to move. The laser sights of Guy's gun improved the groper's disposition almost instantly as he withdrew it from the waistband of his jeans and smiled maniacally.

He was a runner, nothing more than a hired bidder and not even a citizen at that. No loss if he disappeared.

Guy grinned down with malicious, unfocussed gray eyes at his unwitting helper. "That's it chinless wonder, time to pay the piper." He nudged the man's trembling lips suggestively with the barrel's tip and forced his lips apart with a suggestive thrust of his pelvis.

"Lick it."

The man nodded nervously and licked the warm metal tentatively with renewed hope.

"Yeah, that's it. I've been keepin' it warm just for you."

Pleading, frightened blue eyes looked up at him. Bison's leader shrugged.

"You've been braggin' all night with the sweet nothings in my ear, so show me. That free grope came with a price, bitch." Guy retrieved his drink and sniffed it before pouring it over the man's head. "...and it wasn't nursing this prissy assed shit just to get high!"

Now bored with the game, the Ceres mongrel sighed. Too quick a surrender; tongue action sucked wet ass and the drool wasn't exactly helpin' the attempt at seduction, nor the rapid blinking as the drink's acidic fruit juice burnt the runner's eyes. No completion at all.

Donovan could suck the etching off the gun when inspired.

Guy moaned at the thought, slamming the gun's hilt into the side of the patron's head, putting him out of his misery before lazily returned his attentions to the rare beauty gliding across the dais as a fragrance hit him.

Nice. Must be that gorgeous piece of ass on stage, but he was too far away.

_Just ten minutes, that's all he'd need to do that one justice. He'd take more, if it was on offer. He couldn't trust himself to last that long with Donovan much less, if the opportunity presented itself._

"I believe the term used on this world is glass jaw."

That voice, warm, sultry and decidedly female came from behind, where the scent had been coming from now that he gave it thought.

Guy turned at the commanding tone. His eyes met naked feet and above them exceedingly well shaped legs that appeared to go on forever as they rose gracefully to meet curvaceous hips, semi-discreetly covered by, he blinked unsure of what he was witnessing, gossamer thin material.

His worn handsome face broke into a licentious smile as his eyes lowered once more stopping abruptly at the apex of her sex meaningfully and felt his cock react to the sensual display.

Too much temptation about and all of it out of reach, Donovan was definitely gettin' some tonight.

"Nice legs. When do they open for business?"

"Depends what you mean by business, Guy." Ajna replied softly, taking the abandoned seat and crossing long, agile legs. "Isn't it customary to offer a girl a drink at these events?"

The smile froze while his eyes continued to journey upward over the trim waist, the firm swell of spectacular breasts and pert nipples peaking through the material. She had surprisingly broad shoulders.

His pale gray eyes speculatively meet dark, ruby irises.

Guy froze.

'_What the fuck was his attraction to the bald and dangerous? Cause this bitch was packin' in more ways than one._'

The smile upon her face did not meet her eyes. She was after something and it wasn't him.

Guy shook his head with feigned sadness as he cocked his gun and glided it slowly up a smooth thigh. When was it ever about him? It wasn't as if anyone had ever really thought him a prized catch with the exception of Riki and then that was by default.

This was Niiro's bitch, the Karinese and she was armed to the teeth with that laser tipped staff that stopped the progress of the gun's barrel in its little excursion.

'_Yep, he promised his importunate cock. Donovan was gonna be his bitch tonight, one way or another.'_

"Sure."Guy carefully stooped in front of the Karinese female, his eyes never leaving hers as he rifled the runner's pockets and finally found his personal Com and the unlimited credit notice. "He's payin'. Knock yourself out, legs."

Ajna smiled demurely down at him. Butter wouldn't melt on those full lips and the eerily white teeth. So perfect and yet so cold regardless of the studied attempt at a winsome inviting gaze that caressed his body.

Instinct kicked in and his hackles rose. His tall lanky frame eased up slowly, inhaling her fragrance, observing the silky smooth skin of her inner thighs. She did smell good, even if her scent reminded him of Admon. Fuck he still wanted to break its face.

Returning her smile with what he hoped passed for seduction, he was grateful for the rapid decline of his hard on as the blood flow returned to his brain.

He needed to find Donovan. Her inner thigh had the same fuckin' serpentine marking as that droid shit, but in reverse. Maybe they were related. They both did belong to the Ruby, but what did it really mean?

**~~~BMR~~~**

Love was inherently illogical and possessive by its very nature in its infancy, however well cloaked in fear.

It was the first thing Admon felt, not just the roiling aura that burst through the door heralding the near insanity he saw in the emerald green eyes that cut through his core as the Elite lunged towards him out of breath, gnashing his teeth.

The Blondie's heart rate had soared to bursting with its beating, sending a deadly cocktail of adrenalin and testosterone laced blood to all his extremities in preparation to fight.

Admon rose from his seated position on the opposite wall with calm resolve.

Hatred masked much in the humanoid species, but in the end it all boiled down to one central cog – fear. The fear of losing that which was coveted without reason; the fear of revelation and the attendant fallout of a seeming misspent youth, directed by a force of unknown nature and will demanding change; fear of a course that had long been set eons before in the Abyss.

A decided advantage, the Karinese thought meeting the hate filled gaze of a killer. Raoul's current state rendered logic impossible, even for this intuitive humanoid, unused to chaotic thought, but ruled by it when it came to One much prized above all else.

Admon effortlessly dodged the fist that swung for him and grasped the coiled, naked digits with ease and a tired smile. Truth was the best weapon under the circumstances.

Fate required it.

Raoul attempted to pull away from the steely grasp in unaccustomed fear as darkness befell his eyes and the familiar musk of sex and sweat assailed his nostrils and long supple, partially naked limbs came to view with inner sight. His gut twisted in anger and something he could not describe readily.

It was Katze, whose face looked pained and confused with eyes tight shut, murmuring his name as if in chant while he thrust into the still body beneath him with mindless abandon, refusing to take the hand that reached for him.

"He desires you. Understand the gift returned by the First One and your place in the rectification. If you don't, we are lost, Sir Am."

Katze's heart lurched as he watched the bi-play and his Raoul so easily deflected from his intent by the Karinese who wore a sad resolve on his perfect face. Admon released the Elite's hand and strode away with a regal air.

"They are coming, Katze. Prepare yourself."

Admon was a rare serpent indeed and more than that. The dealer shivered finally recognizing what had always bothered him in the preternatural presence felt about Admon.

He was Jupiter's match.

**~~~BMR~~~**

The fog within the Elite's mind had cleared sufficiently to realize that he, Raoul Am, Chief Scientist of Amoi and the ruler of all he surveyed, was perhaps not in total control of his faculties at the moment.

Bottle green eyes lifted to the pale hand extended to him as Katze closed his personal communication device and kneeled down next to the Elite. "We gotta go, Sir Am. Your limo's waiting. We need to get you outta here safely. I just know this isn't over."

Raoul flexed, wilfully attempting to override the lethargy he still felt in his extremities, ignoring the courtesy of the proffered hand. Something about it was disconcertingly familiar, frightening even considering the source and cause of the feeling.

"Can you stand, Sir Am?" Katze asked with a long suffering sigh, rising fully with a mild curse. His jaw ached with each word spoken.

"Where are we going?" the Elite murmured absently regarding Katze's still extended hand as if from a great distance unable to shake the lassitude he felt in his limbs. The fog within his brain was slowly lifting. It felt like a latent communion with Jupiter, perhaps even stronger in its after effects. Something in the android's touch had the ability to lower the response time of muscle tissue. Perhaps his form of defence as he probed the inner workings of the individuals he ceased.

It would never happen again, this loss of control.

Katze bent with a grimace and took Elite's limp hand in his, regarding it speculatively as he spoke. "You saw a memory, didn't you?"

Raoul nodded. "Yes, a great deal I would rather forget."

"Care to share?" Katze inquired suspiciously softly, while raising the Elite's hand and examining it with a pensive expression. If he didn't look at him directly, maybe he would talk.

Silence as the Elite's jaw worked stubbornly as he gently withdrew his hand from the smaller, fine boned one.

"Fine, be that way. Just trying to help, let's go. The shit's about to hit the fan and I need you as far away as possible so I can think straight."

Green eyes blinked uncomprehending at the colourful metaphor and noted that for the second time, unbeknownst to the mongrel, that he had given over to almost admitting attachment with respect to the Elite.

The dealer sighed. He really didn't have time for this bullshit. "Did the same thing to me awhile back at the club and to be honest nearly pissed myself at the time. His empathic abilities are a strong part of why I intend to keep him for business purposes. No one has ever gotten that far in."

"And that is your only rationale, a means of foiling your enemies?"

Katze shrugged.

"I can't explain it, but my gut tells me his agenda is mine. It's not directed at either of us."

Raoul's sudden and sharp glared caught the mongrel off guard.

"You like him because he has a duplicitous mind?"

Katze attempted to smile, but his jaw hurt like a bitch. He shrugged instead. "Okay, so maybe he isn't your biggest fan, Sir Am but he's not my enemy. He's got power and has had plenty of opportunity to lay me low and hasn't."

The Elite's lips pursed. "What manner of opportunities are these you speak of?"

"There's a reason you're to abstain. I get it now. You're all obsessed." The dealer gently tugged on the Elite's hand. "Come on. I need to get that perfect ass outta here. Let's go!"

"Unhand me, Katze. I am not a juvenile in need of succour."

The Elite rose with as much dignity as he could muster, mildly affronted as always by the brutal honesty of the mongrel. "Explain yourself as to why this sudden urgency to leave the premises?"

"I'm just leading you to the tunnel where your limo is waiting, it's the only part of this compound not monitored and yes, it is one of my escape routes in case of emergencies. Good enough? Let's go."

Confusion tinged emerald regarded the dealer irritably. "Why are you so agitated?"

Katze leaned his head towards the office and absently smoothed the Elite's velvet tunic as he spoke, calming his breathing.

"The instruments in there are going nuts. Something's about to happen and I don't want you mixed up in this shit. Who knows, it could be a rival intercepting communications. I don't know, Raoul. I just need you gone."

Raoul's lips pursed. That would explain why the sudden influx of armed men on the main floor.

"I thought this compound was secured and virtually impenetrable? Surely Midas Security will handle whatever manner of disturbance might occur, not to mention the private covert detail, generously supplied by the Syndicate?"

The dealer sighed. The bastard never made anything easy. "Just once in your pathetic, spoilt life, Raoul, let me lead. I can deal better if you're not here and I don't have to worry about you in the cross fire."

Adrenalin had been the solution to the lethargy as it coursed through his body as the Blondie turned to face the dishevelled, blood spattered face of his mongrel, who for a moment looked frightened before cloaking his expression.

Katze gritted his teeth and turned to the blank wall next to him. Another illusion, Raoul thought as the dealer's hand disappeared into a seeming void. The wall undulated revealing a pathway of stairs.

'_A hand print device of unknown make and origin?'_

"What crossfire? Explain yourself! Who has intercepted your secured transmissions?"

"Come on! We've wasted enough time with this debate, Sir Am. You need deniability."

Raoul grasped Katze's shoulder and spun him around. "Answer me, you confounded mongrel."

"Just think of the pleasure you'll have over-intellectualizing the day's events with a nice brandy and Deek fussing around you, thankful I'm not there to poison?" Maybe humour would help. Apparently not, the Blondie looked even more determined. Not a one of them dealt well with being ordered about.

Katze took the first set of stairs but heard no echoing footsteps behind as he had hoped. He shook his head and turned. True to form all he saw was the Elite's distinctive silhouette at the top of the stairwell, his shoulders looking broad and obstinate in their set and though he could not see those fine eyes, he knew they glowered down at him.

The dealer retraced his steps and opened his jacket in preparation for fast retrieval of his only friend. It was like attempting to move a mountain Katze had to admit irritably, looking up into confused, stubborn, verdant eyes. "Why aren't your feet moving, Sir Am?"

Katze winced as his body was yanked up into Raoul's arms. "I am staying, mongrel."

He allowed himself to enjoy the warmth, letting his body go limp in the Elite's grasp with the anticipated effect. Raoul eased his grip just sufficiently for his arm to move within the silk lining of his jacket.

"Ahhh, no, Raoul. With all due respect, you're not!" Katze murmured sibilantly. "Let's go, Sir Am."

Raoul blinked feeling the warm metal against his chest, his eyes widening involuntarily with the sharp blow across the back of his head before his sight faded.

"Fuck!" Donovan hissed venomously, flexing his wrist, the entire hand throbbed from the impact.

Katze suppressed the sudden irrational urge to strike Donovan as he looked down at the crumpled Blondie at his feet.

"You used the butt?" He felt the back of the Elite's head beneath the soft splayed silk with regret.

"He'll be fine. He's hard headed, like someone else I know." The minder retorted and studied his quarry before heaving the limp Blondie across broad shoulders and carefully took the stairs one step at a time with barely suppressed curses as they walk ran towards the open limousine door at the bottom of the stairwell.

Donovan carefully lowered his unconscious burden into the plush interior, while Katze gave mono-syllabic instructions to the guard who would be driving while the Syndicate driver attempted to look nonplused by the unexpected changes to his itinerary.

They both stood and watched in the darkness as the signal light faded down the tunnel along with the two heavily armed vehicles that followed silently.

"Don't wanna be you, when your boyfriend wakes up."

Katze flinched involuntarily. "Me either and for the record, he's not my boyfriend."

Folding long powerful arms across his chest, Donovan chuckled. "You told him that by any chance? Cause I think he sees it differently."

The dealer pursed his lips and glared up at his minder before turning toward the lone beacon of light within the darkness. "Walk with me."

'_Oookay...time to change the subject_.'

"Heavy fuckers, you're a brave man, Boss. What the hell are they made of anyway, some metal alloy?"

"Flesh, bone, blood, just like the rest of us, Donovan, just more of it."

"You are _soooo_ fucked, Boss Man, I warned you."

"Enough speculating on my _former_ personal life, I want details. Who and why are we under attack?"

Donovan shook his head and gently grasped the lean, broad shoulder, stopping the dealer's progress.

Cerulean blue eyes, now dark accustomed studied the bruised and battered face of his charge as anger welled in the pit of his stomach anew.

"You're in love with him, aren't you? Look at you. You never let anyone get close enough to do this kind of damage."

Katze shrugged off the tentative hold. "Drop it, Donovan. Answer my question, who is it?"

"More like **what.** Jupiter's favourite acolyte's on his way to see your prized Ruby. We're supposed to keep him here along with his guests including Admon. I did send you a message to that effect, but I can see you were busy."

Katze's eyes narrowed, studying his bodyguard who was still favouring his wrist. He shook his head and retrieved his Com. Yep, there it was. This was exactly why he detested complicated human emotions, they got in the way. If he hadn't been so pre-occupied with safeguarding Raoul, he'd have gotten the message and been tactically ahead.

"We're the Med-Techs? Need to spruce up before the meeting."

The minder pointed to the dim blue signage at the opposing end of the path.

Might have known that pompous ass would ruin this event and as for the other anal retentive, why in Jupiter's name hadn't Sir Niiro acknowledged his leader formally before attending the Auction? An example was about to be made to a select audience on his own watch.

Donovan's eyes took in his Boss's current rumpled state, noting the dried blood, the deviation and swelling of a once patrician nose and the dark circles forming under the dealer's eyes.

"Yeah, you do in more ways than one, if you want to avoid questions."

Katze did. He looked like shit. Above all else he loathed complications and having to justify his existence. "If you could see your way to..."

"You owe me, Boss." Donovan snorted understanding the request.

"...make sure the trousers fit. I'd prefer a 'non-sweaters'."

"Well laaaa-dee-da, Boss. You'll take what you get." The bodyguard waved dismissively and headed in the opposing direction back into the shadows.

Donovan's footsteps echoed as did his soft laughter causing the redhead to ponder the enigmatic being that was his number one.

With each passing day their bond wound more tightly, almost anticipatory was their connection. He had been right in his selection. A synchronistic selection as it turned out, fuelled by Guy's own number one, Sid and an accidental meeting.

The redhead turned towards the light, his steps picking up speed with each stride. He heard a scuffle and raised voices. Target acquired. Donovan's lewd whistle only confirming it.

Right, Meds-techs to alleviate the unbearable pressure in his septum. That would maybe leave ten minutes to skilfully corner the Ruby for a quick confab before the arrival of Iason and his retinue.

**~~~BMR~~~**

'_Why am I undressed_?'

This was not his bedroom, in fact, these were not his sheets, but the subtle pervading scent was comforting as was the wrinkled, worried face that regarded him in an overly familiar manner.

"You are awake, Sir Am. Excellent. Would you like some tea?"

Raoul's head swam as he tried to focus on the bent figure. "Kato?"

The manservant leaned forward expectantly, observing the rise of sentience in querulous green eyes that were beginning to look a tad malevolent at such close quarters. The little man stepped back a fraction as the Elite rose from the waist up with no effort, sitting ramrod straight in the bed, like an ancient spectre.

"Where is he?" Raoul growled, barely containing his rage.

"Perhaps something stronger, while you wait? We could not return you to Tanagura in your current state. It was the best we could do, Sir Am."

**~~~BMR~~~**

"I should have dispensed with you, eons ago. You were never meant to be."

He'd be awake by now and almost as pissed as the Elite staring daggers at him while being held in his seat by two of his best. The female was none too pleased either. It didn't help that Donovan was currently sitting across her chest. Her own weapon secured across her windpipe, keeping her in check.

"Why didn't you, Sir Niiro?"

Admon had offered no challenge to the armed guards as they strode through the crowd and retrieved the irritable Ruby and sequestered him in the observation box for questioning.

"You cannot keep me here forcibly, Furniture. Know your place. Things have not changed sufficiently to merit this liberty."

Katze inhaled the invigorating smoke and exhaled slowly. "Ex, but you know that, Sir Niiro. Why are you here?"

It was like looking into a mirror, Katze thought, an exceedingly warped mirror image. A viciously cold version of his own eyes bore into him with unfettered hate. The dealer smiled.

"I demand to know why I'm being held against my will, mongrel. There will be repercussions of the highest order, when his Excellency hears of this. Your days are numbered."

"Tell me something I don't know...Sir?" Katze studied his cigarette, admiring the controlled embers that formed ash at its tip.

"I would beg to differ, Sir Niiro," countered a smooth, silken baritone. "In actuality, it is your days that are numbered."

All eyes turned to the open doorway where Iason Mink, head of the Tanagura Syndicate stood, resplendent in white.

**Author's Note**

See. See. I was a very good girl. Nice long chapter. Hope you liked it. Let me know.

Namaste

**EP**


	29. Chapter 28

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **28** of ?

**Reviews are fuel.**

_"He is victorious if he knows where and when not to fight."_

**Sun Tzu**

**Chapter 28** of ? – **The Web of Illusion** (Post OVA)

Raoul's temper had not improved in the last hour. Still he remained, now half dressed and glowering as only an Elite could who was visibly out of sorts, a rarity in and of itself. Kato hummed peacefully as he strung the needle for the fourth time, mumbling to himself about the light or lack thereof on his old eyes.

"This is ridiculous! Have someone bring me a new tunic immediately!"

Kato tut tuted and shifted on the chaise at the bottom of the bed, while Raoul stalked the perimeter of the bedroom. "Forgive the tedium, Sir Am. Someone of your importance is never to be kept waiting but appearances are everything. It is never a good idea to upset Mr. Katze, Sir Am, allow me to finish."

Raoul pursed his lips in lieu of a glower.

"Mr. Katze will insist on the old ways when convenient and I must admit I have come to enjoy the warp and weft of it after much trial and error. It brings me peace, these small acts of contrition."

A pale unimpressed brow rose watching the deft movements of gnarled fingers as silken thread was drawn through the minor tear at the shoulder.

There was veracity to his statement. The damage was hardly noticeable now. No comment would be made as he strode through Eos Tower, though his mind favoured another destination at the moment and the thorough throttling of a redheaded mongrel.

"How did you acquire those?" Raoul pointed dispassionately at the thin silver metal of varying heights used for the repair.

Eyes set in a wizened face looked up and focussed briefly on the being that spoke before returning in earnest to their task. "One never asks where a gift comes from here, Sir Am. It is simple a gift and a chance to practice a lost art.

"Antiquated claptrap and highly inefficient. You have pierced your skin twice in the process of repair." Raoul countered with flippant wave of wrist. "See to it your foul DNA is not part and parcel of this darning you insist upon."

"Rest assured I have been careful not to soil your vestment with my unworthy blood, Sir Am."

"You are stalling, Kato."

The manservant glanced sideways at the Elite and held his tongue. "Are you hungry? I do not know your ways, Sir Am, but Mr. Katze's irritability is usually fuelled by hunger."

The Blondie's brows furrowed. There was a familiar tone there. The real question was, nurture or nature? Raoul suspected a little of both with the attractive malcontent who ran this den of inequity.

"This is of no import, Kato. Get on with this ludicrous task you insist upon. Had I not been, been..." he refused to give the act actual voice, though the base of his skull still throbbed. "I would not require the services of a clearly blind and idiotic servant in the employ of that mongrel."

Bowing with obvious difficulty, Kato took a deep breath to ease the pain of the audible pop of his back.

Narrow emerald eyes had found another flaw in this fatuous mongrel. Surely the wretched dealer saw the defective incompetent for what he was? He was clearly at the end of his usefulness. It really would be best to put him down. Raoul pursed his lips and glared down at the little man. "I could leave without it, you know?"

"Why yes you could, Sir Am, but a gentleman should always look the part or so I have been told, repeatedly by Mr. Katze."

"And he would know of this how?" Raoul snapped derisively, stopping in mid prowl.

"Because he is a gentle man, Sir Am. He does what he must. Not what he wants."

"Meaning?"

"He is honourable to a fault to those who serve. Few notice the intrinsic value in the seemingly flawed. He prefers it that way. It gives him the edge when dealing with those who perceive him as weak, usually to their detriment."

A flip of luxurious golden curls and a diffident gaze was the only response to the servant's retort.

"I believe you both have an inkling as to the others true nature, hence the intrigue – the obvious attraction."

"Be very careful, Kato," Raoul hissed with narrowed eyes. "These incendiary suppositions of yours are not welcome. Do not presume to understand my views with respect to that duplicitous, cantankerous, upstart of a flawed..."

"Man?"

Raoul sniffed indignantly, "Mongrel."

"Yes, of course, Sir Am. You know best." Kato rose deferentially and padded across the thick carpeting with the tunic held high for final inspection. Even to the Elite's discerning gaze, the rent was invisible, excellent workmanship, most irritating.

The Elite's lips thinned.

"Would the honoured guest require anything further before departing for Eos Tower, perhaps an analgesic? You look to be in pain, Sir Am."

"Thank you, no, Kato. I think it best for all concerned that I do not avail myself of the redoubtable pharmacopeia ready to hand, legalities being what they are. Questions might be asked."

"Understood, Sir Am. Plausible deniability is always preferred."

Raoul sighed aloud while lowering himself sufficiently to accommodate the miniscule being to more easily fit the tunic across broad shoulders. The sooner he got away from the inane humming the better. However did Katze tolerate it on a daily basis?

'_Definitely nurture with just a hint of passive aggression thrown in for good measure. Why not utilize the opportunity to advantage? The wretched little mongrel cannot refuse.'_

"Admon's quarters. I wish to examine it, immediately."

The command had been worth the momentary confusion and yet cunning, fraught with opportunity, returned to twinkling dark brown eyes.

"_Yeees_. Of course, Sir Am, your superior intellect may shed light on the object I found secreted amidst his bed linens this afternoon."

Funny but just for a second, the Chief Medical Officer of Tanagura felt used.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Their second encounter had gone badly.

Amidst the barely suppressed aggression cloaked beneath the pleasant well modulated laughter of guests Raoul Am pondered the Furniture, who silently observed the varied gathering of Commonwealth citizenry and the few Elites. The polite thrust and parry of trite conversation was Iason's forte, not so his Second-in-Command who found it irritating to say the least.

Cocktail parties were always a bore to the Chief Medical Officer of Tanagura. In truth, these little gatherings tested his patience, what with repetition of unworthy gossip, blatant innuendo and the endless need for his fellow Elite to jockey for Iason's attentions, while his Pets sat in the background petulantly awaiting their call to entertain the distinguished guests with their sensual expertise. Sure to be a perverse thrill for the off world dignitaries attending tonight's post supper indulgence.

Raoul's searching green eyes drifted toward the Furniture for the third or fourth time that evening, he hadn't kept count. No he hadn't moved in the last five minutes, but those golden eyes, almost like clockwork, scanned the select guests for need not yet met, always on the periphery with refreshment tray at the ready or a modulated word to the attending staff hired for the evening.

It was masterful that suitably blank, yet attentive expression awaiting the slightest inclination of a guest's head or the quixotic whims of his Master. Never once did he fail to maintain an eye on his charges, the exceptionally beautiful and calculatingly indolent Pets of Iason Mink, suggestively clad.

An odd colour green for a Furniture, but Iason's eye for aesthetics reigned supreme tonight. Rich emerald satin clung to his lean angular body in flowing waves that accentuated his perfect elfin form.

The robe was an expensive cut to be sure and modest by Tanagura standards, but still, his presence radiated light with each subtle, graceful movement of servility. A different form of attractiveness that called the eye again and again in its quiet refinement that bespoke studied grace and sensuality.

Illumined was the flawless ivory skin atop high exotically tilted cheekbones. The diffident mouth both lush and yet restrained stood as counterpoint in the exceptionally well proportioned physiognomy and still there was the topper, that virulently red mane that defied understanding for a mongrel; it needed a trim. How had Iason overlooked this pertinent detail of appearance? Just soft silken waves touched his shoulders with no practiced artifice, begging to be touched.

Raoul palm flexed involuntarily, suppressing the urge that came from nowhere. Self consciously the Elite shifted on the low seating in the quiet nook, oblivious to the ramble of Sir Niiro as he absently watched the milling crowd about them.

"So what do you think, Raoul? Should we? It seems an excellent opportunity." Sir Niiro asked, gray eyes alert as he regarded his friend, following the trajectory of the Medical Man's pensive gaze with growing disquiet. This had not been the first time during their conversation that Sir Raoul Am had lost his focus on the rather edifying conversation about the mongrel genome and recent findings stored in the antiquated records of the Abyss. They had actually found the samples flash frozen and still viable, despite Jupiter's best efforts at subterfuge.

The Blondie turned and regarded the Ruby examining the face before him with new eyes, finally giving the anomalous thought a name. Their respective countenances were remarkably similar in structure. It would not do to point this out to Sir Niiro the striking similarities of features to that of a mongrel, much less a juvenile he had chosen for the Mink household.

Those sharp gray eyes held a question, a rather embarrassing one he had no intentions of addressing as to why he had been watching the Furniture.

Raoul pinched the bridge of his nose and feigned fatigue. "Sir Niiro, forgive me. To what were you referring?"

Niiro smiled indulgently inclining his head in the direction of the thoroughly inebriated dignitaries holding forth with great volume by the balcony doors. "Exceptionally attractive for a mongrel don't you think? Sakura even had the nerve to point out our similarities. Can you imagine?"

"Hadn't noticed."

The Blondie snorted defensively and casually sipping his wine, studying the flute's contents as he spoke. "Can we return to the subject at hand? I believe it pertained to mongrel DNA and the original samples archived?"

"Ahh so you were listening? I did wonder. You seemed lost. Is it the eyes? They are rather an unusual hue for a human, but with his genetics it is a given. A throwback if you like. It is why I had chosen him as a subject of study. The other two being a few years younger proved too erratic and impossible to control under clinical trials. His fundamental temperament sufficed."

Raoul shrugged, uncomfortable with the line of conversation. "I suppose."

Ignoring the noncommittal retort the Ruby continued, pointedly looking at the Furniture in question and delicately tapping the rim of his near empty glass for a refill. "You are not the only one to have noticed the remarkably attractive castrate this night. He seems to have caused a stir."

"Really, the things you say for shock value, Sir Niiro. Perhaps you have had too much." Raoul responded covering the rim of the wine glass held by the Ruby in censure as the subject of the conversation approached.

Sir Niiro's eyes sparkled maliciously as he studied his friend's discomfort and slapped the Blondie's hand away.

Truth be told, he was enjoying the appearance of the tightly coiled shoulder muscles of his party companion with each graceful, precise motion of the mongrel as he elegantly retrieved the empty glass and offered a fresh libation to the Ruby without uttering a word.

"Furniture, the party by the balcony doors are in need of your attentions too. See to it, will you?"

Secretively, Raoul followed Katze's cautious amber gaze. The servant inclined his head a fraction, acknowledging the command wordlessly.

Raoul did not appreciate the cut of their stance, particularly the larger dark haired reprobate with the too bright smile that towered above the mongrel menacingly. Off-world patrons of suspect intent by the glazed, licentious smirks all focussed on the castrate's body, did not sit well with the Blondie.

'_Entirely inappropriate_.'

Their deviant intent was so clearly etched upon their faces. So typical of the sexually repressed, absolutely no discipline in conduct towards the object of their collective lust based upon curiosity alone.

Raoul suddenly felt the need to stretch as he flexed involuntarily. It was growing warm in the room. Perhaps some air.

"Are they aware he is a castrate? Perhaps someone should edify them? Would you care to join me on the balcony, the air grows tight?"

"Oh dear, someone wants to play hero to a mongrel. Why spoil the fun? Far be it for us to interfere with their little fantasies. What is the harm in it? They will find out soon enough. That ridiculously puritanical streak does not become you, Raoul. This is their first trip to Amoi and their first Pet Party, protocol be damned. Might enliven an otherwise boring evening, of banal conversations?"

"Because, my dear Sir Niiro, these Commonwealth traders are hardly the usual guests of Sir Mink. The entertainment for the night does not include the Furniture. It is disrespectful to our leader, much less the object of their fancy. Mongrel he might be, but he is the property of Jupiter's chosen and as such is sacrosanct."

"You seem to forget, Raoul, I chose him for this household for myriad reasons, one of which was his descent, anomalous and diluted as it is."

Sniffing dismissively at his friend's near fascist predisposition for protocol Sir Niiro looked about the room for something more to his liking and stood, adjusting the dark maroon silk robe he had chosen to wear, despite Raoul's edicts to follow proper dress codes as befitted the Ruby's rank.

"I'm bored. Where is our esteemed leader? The last time I saw him he was surrounded by some Commonwealth jackals and heading for the library. Should we investigate? Might prove diverting, at least he will find the prospects interesting as to our collective ancestry and the First One herself."

"Niiro, I am warning you. Divulging the means of your early trials will not win favour." Raoul hissed softy, though his eyes searched with growing alarm. He sighed with relief finally spotting the green shift and its occupant.

The Ruby patted the cheek of the irritable Blondie. "Not to worry, my dear. Your secret is quite safe with me."

The mongrel was still with the miscreants, one of which had taken it upon himself to toy with one of the billowing sleeves of the Furniture's gown, using it as a leach. Raoul did wonder fleetingly if the man's face would crack with the width of his smile and how disproportionately sharp his incisors seemed, even from across the room.

Raoul felt the blood rising to his face as the hand ghosted over the mongrel's back, feigning interest in the cut and design of the garment. The owner of said hand was slowly leading the castrate onto the balcony with a furtive glance over one broad shoulder.

This was not a brothel where such conduct was akin to foreplay and the damn Furniture wasn't exactly deporting himself correctly under the circumstances either. What had become of that spine he saw, however fleeting?

True, he could see that Katze wanted to recoil from the touch, while dutifully answering the questions posed to him. A few more guests within the group joined the discourse and followed, carefully closing the doors behind them.

Instinctively, Raoul stood and righted his tunic before bowing to the surprised Ruby who looked at him quizzically. "Where are you going? Surely you are not leaving before the best part? It might actually do you some good. I believe there will be a ménage-a-quatre tonight."

"Enjoy, Niiro. I must see about rescuing Iason. The sooner these uncouth barbarians get their fill, the sooner we avoid an interstellar incident. In case you have not noticed, the balcony doors are closed and the Furniture is being held captive by those eight reprobates."

Full lips smirked at the Blondie before licking the rim of the flute suggestively before turning his gaze away from the his furious brethren. "Really? Such naughty boys..."

Raoul's eyes narrowed. Niiro was an incorrigible mischief maker when he was of a mind.

"Excuse me, Sir Niiro. Entertain yourself as you see fit."

"You run along, my dear. I believe I'll join them, just to make sure things are on the up and up. It's the least I can do, to put your mind at ease, no?"

Raoul turned and left swiftly, moving stealthily through the crowded living space towards the library, where he knew his friend was engaged in secret negotiations, the real purpose of the gathering.

Niiro was on form tonight, Raoul thought irritably. His exceptional hearing heard the shattering of glass beyond the closed balcony doors, but wilfully ignored it as he gritted his teeth at the malicious laughter he heard coming from Sir Niiro, followed by guttural wolf-like calls.

Despite their shared inquisitive scientific predisposition long founded in youth, there were moments like these where the overtly dissipated aspects of Ruby's nature gave the Elite pause. It had much to do with why he was despised amongst his own caste, who found him over-privileged and far too protected from the usual morays of his class.

Tapping softly on the door, that familiar silken baritone granted him entry.

Raoul breathed a low sigh of relief looking into those cool, questioning ice blue eyes.

"You are needed immediately without, Sir Mink."

**~~~BMR~~~**

The darkened, nondescript little abode had recently been cleaned as the antiseptic odour made clear. Raoul was grateful. Far preferable to the less than subtle pheromones of the android that permeated his being and currently his mongrel; the real source of his earlier rage now that he gave it thought.

Kato shuffled forward with the silver box that looked a miniature version of the one procured by the broker.

Inspecting the coverlet malevolently the Blondie perched on the edge of the bedding and studied the delicate machine before cautiously lifting the lid with the expected result. Harmonious musical notes filled the air though halting at first as a serpentine array of light ushered forth like eventually hitting the opposing wall in a plume of intertwined colours.

"Sir Niiro's insignia, his pretensions know no bounds."

Raoul heard the manservant's sharp intake of breath as he fell to his knees and stared at the slowly turning symbol with clasped hands as if in prayer.

"Kato, what are you doing?"

"Jupiter be praised. It was here right under our noses." The manservant intoned softly with awe filled eyes, almost moved to tears.

The elderly man rocked back and forth lost to the query of the perplexed Elite who stood and regarded the peculiar motions of the mongrel's body with suspicion.

"All this time, I've waited. The useless acquisitions in search of it, just following the clues and all the while Admon held its secret."

There were actual tears running down the wrinkled face; tears of reverence as the elderly male mumbled incoherently oblivious to the Elite bent over him, studying the response with growing disquiet.

Retreating from the bowing form, Raoul felt the back of his knees connect with the soft corner of the bed. He sat without conscious thought, mesmerized by the glowing coils before him and the subtle play of ancient melody from the object he still held in his ungloved hands.

It felt hot to the touch. The syncopated cords of the ancient simplistic melody line casting his mind further in an endless spiral and in the process, however absently he realized Kato's movements were timed as the music gave way to words that drifted between the individual notes of the piece.

'_Within each crimson drop is a history and if followed to its true end can reveal all manner of secrets, some of which could rock the foundations of long held beliefs. It is the Dark Moon Rising, Admon.'_

**~~~BMR~~~**

Katze's amber gaze travelled over the exquisite countenance of the android as he stood behind his true Master with a beatific smile.

It was almost as if he did not care that his beloved Ruby was not withstanding a barbed inquisition from the resplendent ideal of humanoid perfection as sanctioned by Jupiter.

The dealer knew that expression all too well; a cloak of civility that garnered inner privacy, while the mind wandered to a safer place, away from the inequities of the living in supplication.

No it was more than that the redhead realized intuitively, lighting another cigarette. Admon was somewhere and he could only guess with which someone – Raoul. The question was, to what end?

**Author's Note**

I ask for your patience. This was the right place to leave the chapter. BELIEVE ME. Hang in there. Get some tissues for the next chapter. Just warning you now, so you think Katze is not emotive in his silences? Then I got some swamp land for ya. See you soon.

**EP**


	30. Chapter 29

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **29** of ?

_**This chapter is dedicated to my muse's brilliant acolytes in crime, A_ngua and Ainzfern. I truly could not write this without these two fine, discerning, like-minded duo at my back.**_

**Reviews are fuel.**

_"Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate." _

**Sun Tzu**

**Chapter 29** of ? – **Soundlessness** (Post OVA)

Murmurs of reproach followed the eight being escorted under armed guard from the penthouse. All turning in their wake, anxious to be the first to level suitably aggrieved looks at those foreigners who dared to besmirch the House of Mink.

Raoul's penetrating gaze took in the angry stares. Collective duplicity was what he saw in the tilt of supercilious heads.

He knew damn well all secretly exulted in having witnessed the ignoble act of disrobing the Furniture for their prurient enjoyment. Not a one seeing fit to intervene; all so vindictively pleased at cornering and verbally dismembering the low born mongrel with derisive laughter and deprecating commentary.

No, they had chosen to egg the participants on. After all, few had ever actually seen a Furniture nude. This was just too delightful, the truncated misshapen flesh that remained of his manhood in full view.

Unjustly Raoul thought, Iason's silent accusing fury had been directed at the naked shivering male whose robe lay in a puddle about his feet. Unaccountably Iason's friend of years was discomforted by the sight, but kept his own counsel while dark emerald eyes memorized the faces of the perpetrators for later redress.

The jeering suppositions volunteered by those on the periphery of the crowded balcony had subsided markedly with the appearance of Sir Mink and his Second-in-Command. Nervous titters being quickly replaced by a hushed silent expectation.

No preamble was necessary. Raoul could see the menacing set of Iason's countenance when an elegant, gloved digit was raised in wordless command.

The armed guards had little trouble quelling the drunken miscreants who were dragged from the residence in full view of the other party goers. Excitement over for the moment, idle minds and well clad bodies drifted back into the penthouse proper for the coming attraction, leaving only the two Blondies and a lone Ruby no longer clapping his enjoyment.

Laser like blue irises shone with preternatural light taking in the Ruby perched atop the balcony wall and the living object of his keen, methodical hate filled stare.

Raoul cleared his throat in warning, accepting the heat of the Ruby's narrowed supercilious gaze.

"Be somewhere else, Niiro!" Iason spat softly, his voice echoing in the stillness.

Raoul had to credit Niiro for managing to switch emotional gears rapidly, lowering his eyes with feigned penitence in acknowledgment of his part in encouraging the unwanted spectacle.

He eased himself carefully from the wall, finishing what remained of his wine with a secretive smirk. The best part of the evening was over anyway. No point making a fuss.

Niiro strolled past the Furniture as if on an evening's promenade at first ignoring the mongrel's nude presence before abruptly stopping as though he had forgotten something. He looked at the crystal flute he held meditatively, a smile playing about his lips as he retraced his steps gracefully and placed the glass at Katze's feet.

"One less to retrieve, my dear wronged creature."

An empty amber stare drifted downward taking in the un-shattered stemware. "Thank you, Sir Niiro."

The Ruby's right eye twitched in anger. That had not been the requisite response. Too much pride, he would be beaten.

Raoul flinch involuntarily at Iason's soft guttural hiss. Surely Sir Niiro heard it too and yet he turned malicious eyes to the body before him and clinically inspected the mongrel's deformed genitalia, just to add insult to injury.

"Not a very good job at all. I simply must speak with Sakura, well below par, quite hideous. One should always take pride in their workmanship."

Raoul heart clenched uncomfortably while drinking in the exquisitely proportioned form being reviled. That perfect face devoid of expression beneath the twin moons glow, seemingly uncaring at the cutting critique. Not even a blink.

Katze had gone elsewhere in that moment, denying Niiro the final cut as best he could. This was an Elite characteristic in fact, the ability to subvert intended slights with a subtle counter-attack, born of silence.

"Sir Niiro, please." Raoul entreated softly in hopes of a reprieve for his intransigent friend but far too late.

Iason now loomed over the impudent Ruby with clenched fists.

"It is advisable that you never darken my doorstep with your unwanted presence again Sir Niiro. You have three days to remove yourself from my sight permanently. That small planetoid will do."

Raoul was flummoxed but relieved. He would be allowed continued study, out of sight. Their secret safe from prying, ever present eyes, Iason was no fool, he mused regarding the Furniture.

Amazing, just standing there teeth chattering, his long elegant neck craned skyward towards the inky blackness of space like a perfect opalescent statue wrought of pure alabaster. Impossibly proud was this fragile being, such a waste.

This fortitude Raoul was witnessing was not a mongrel trait.

Iason's rigid countenance spoke volumes as Niiro sauntered past with a protracted bow, riff with unspoken insolence, swirling his cloak over his shoulder for added effect. "Gentlemen, I bid you both good night."

"On pain of death, Niiro," Iason hissed between gritted teeth as the Ruby opened the balcony doors with head held high.

All in attendance turned their heads as if otherwise engaged, feigning interest in static conversations when Niiro passed heading for the main doors with due haste.

Raoul released his breath. "Unconscionable behaviour, I beg your indulgence, Iason."

Iason's silver mane swirled in threat as he turned to regard his friend, formerly repressed anger shone brightly in pale ice blue eyes now that they were alone.

"Take care of this," he pointed in the direction of the mongrel while turning on his heels to re-enter the penthouse. "Use the dining entrance. There has been enough display for this night."

The Blondie respectfully inclined his head in submission he did not at the moment feel. Quietly the doors clicked behind his leader and the blinds were closed by unseen hands, signalling the main event for the night.

Katze released his held breath as music began to play from within. The redolence of intoxicating incense accompanying the beat; a beat that emulated the primal thrum of the humanoid heart in excitation as cheers went up from within.

They were finally alone.

Raoul's breath caught. Katze had finally moved, slowly lowering himself to retrieve the silken robe before slipping it over his shoulders with bowed head. His hands had been shaking.

Perhaps it was from the chill of the evening air, but it did not explain the sheen of moisture on the mongrels cheeks, roughly brushed away on a sleeve.

"Katze?"

"I am in need of nothing, Sir Am. Please return to the gathering. I am fine."

He bent again gracefully, retrieving the discarded tray, carefully picking through the broken glass and placing the larger pieces on its surface in silence.

"Leave that," Raoul murmured irritably, somewhat confused by the indifference of the stare being given to him in equal but veiled annoyance.

"With all due respect, Sir Am, I think not. He will blame me for this too. I'm fine."

"Look here, I gave you an order. It is not your place to question that order. I demand you go to your quarters and seek repose. Another will attend to this, Katze. It is not expected of you to tend these menial tasks at the moment."

He watched as the broad angular back stiffened. "It is mine to do. Please do not deny me this, Sir Am."

The Blondie sighed aloud in frustration. "I will see you to your quarters. Leave it!"

"Why? As you can see, Sir Am, I am in no way physically harmed."

Such an odd choice of words, Raoul thought, keenly aware of the nervous movements of the mongrel's body as he picked up the last sharp piece of glass, cutting himself on the shard.

Not even a twitch. This was not normal. There should have been a reaction. It was a well documented fact that castrates avoided physical displays of any kind.

Yet this one was unmoved by the indignity thrust upon him. Silent endurance was not acceptable, it might have repercussions. Iason's initial reaction had not helped. It only reinforced the behaviour he now witnessed.

"Might I ask where was this selective spine of yours when the dregs of some far flung uncivilized world lead you here with lascivious intent?"

The worm turned then as Katze rose to his full height and openly glared in defiance at the Blondie before once again shuttering his stare.

"Were you so lacking in foresight as not to see the inevitable result and how it might politically ill affect this household?"

That penetrating stare caused a cold shiver to shatter the Elite's uncharacteristic indignation.

"It is not my place to say no, Sir Am. You are most fortunate in not being acquainted with this. Now if you will excuse me, Sir I must see about changing and clearing this mess."

Dismissal; Raoul Am felt dismissed by a mere Furniture of budding years, the utter gall!

"See here. Put that down this instant, Katze or you will rue the day you were born!"

Unexpectedly, a wry chuckle escaped parted lips. "Too late, I already do, Sir."

Raoul noted the bleeding hand thought better of the question as the Furniture finally deigned to follow his initial orders and placed the shard filled tray on an adjoining table with an expectant yet blank expression.

"Is it deep?"

Perfectly arched auburn brows raised a fraction in quest. There was humour in the diverting stare, such light should not be quelled Raoul thought absently.

"The cut damn it! Is it deep?"

Katze studied the wounded fingers and shook his head indifferently.

"Just a knick, Sir Am."

A long pause followed as both men studied one another, one furtively and the other somewhat boldly and with censure.

Pointing towards the sheer kitchen doors in a move that brooked no argument, Raoul sniffed.

Katze sighed and turned, giving up, careful this time to step past the twinkling shards upon the hard cool flooring. "Watch your step, Sir Am."

"Never you mind, just go. I will be in shortly to dress the wound."

The mongrel stopped mid stride. "I assure you..."

"You assure nothing. Just go!"

"Yes, Sir Am. As you wish, Sir Am," Katze mumbled unconvincingly over his shoulder.

'_Impossible creative, far too much intransigence for one of his position.'_

Raoul watched as the lithe shadow moved about the kitchen at first with precision, clearing

what had been left from the earlier catered feast.

Every now and then the body shivered involuntarily and the mask of indifference fled from his face as long fingers grasped the surface of the island in an effort to calm the mongrel's breathing.

'_Post traumatic realization and acceptance. This was more like it, none of this stoic nonsense. They were not built for it. In fact, they were not built at all. They were merely a hodge-podge of poorly sequenced genes.'_

He crept up beyond the shrubbery, feeling much like a villainous voyeur watching the deep inhalation and the current object that held the mongrel rapt attention again.

It was a blade, suited only to the cutting of meat. A rather sharp blade that Katze had set aside in the process of clearing the detritus of dinner back into the numerous catering boxes, left for the Furniture's convenience.

Raoul thought nothing of it at first, more incensed with the mongrel's defiance in not resting as ordered. Still, what gave great unease was the expression that held within it a strange peace, an unnatural peace riddled with resignation. The thinned lips spoke of a decision as did the precise walk towards his chambers, after giving the now immaculate kitchen one final benediction of professional pride; a job exceedingly well done.

Where and when instinct surfaced was most inconvenient, but it did for the Chief Medical Officer of Tanagura. Suspicion made him look to the island where the knife had been and saw nothing but the clear marbleized surface. The ream of processed white silk found in the airing cupboard had disappeared too.

It was impermeable to liquid.

And still the music thrummed uncaring while the Elite forced the latch, very aware that time was working against him as he breathed in torturous gasps, his nerves on fire. Iason would be useless for this. In fact, his blinding pride of place had caused this. Damn it to Jupiter, Raoul would not allow the obvious price even if he knew not why, but in that moment of certainty, he knew how.

'_Too late, I already do, Sir.'_

Katze's soft spoken words of irony rang in the Elite's ears as he succeeded by brute force to shatter the glass. He stilled for a moment, listening for signs that he had been heard, but the loud hoots of the untutored throng watching the tiresome, repetitive exhibition of flesh and joining, masked his entry.

His graceful strides carried him through the dimly lit circuitous hallway that led to the quarters of the owned. The Furniture's door was still ajar, just as it had been all those weeks ago. A habit he surmised. Their hearing was not the best, by Elite standards. Perhaps a habit learnt since Iason had a tendency to bellow when dissatisfied. It was always best to forestall such an outcome.

Holding his breath, Raoul observed the careful way the Furniture had inspected his bedding, then the closet containing the few understated raiment of his profession, then the antiquated escritoire that had once graced Iason's library but lost favour.

Katze paused and went into the small adjoining room with the white silk material, carefully folded. The Blondie realized these were the servant's conveniences by the sudden flow of water.

His brows furrowed when Katze returned empty handed noting the billowing steam that crept into the room when he returned to the writing table and chair, undoubtedly another cast off of the esteemed Iason Mink.

Actual parchment, probably stolen, the mongrel knew no bounds, was being pulled from the writing drawer. The Blondie shook his head fascination as the mongrel took up the stylus and painstakingly wrote with focussed concentration whilst soft music played. A pleasing melody, again another curiosity, Karinese of decent of suspect audio quality entered the neat ordered space.

The mood of the being was clear though in the sharp upward strokes and the harshness of the signature, three times the sizes of the body script, a final attempt at impotent censure, perhaps?

How pretentious an act for one such as he? Raoul acknowledged the great care with which he formed the individual letters. His sight was exceptional, but from this distance, the words were indistinguishable and at the moment irrelevant. He had to be sure of his suspicions, so for now, the Elite chose to simply observe.

Studying his missive, Katze sighed and looked about the room a final time and returned to the bathroom, closing the door.

Like a dagger to the heart, Raoul knew. No more waiting. No more supposition on intent, Raoul entered the mongrel's bedroom and carefully closed the door behind him.

**~~~BMR~~~**

He closed the lid of the little box and studied its extremities – platinum, a metal once greatly coveted by those on the world of origin. It has ceased to have value, once its metallurgy properties were made commonplace and only used for machinery. Like gold, it did not tarnish, but unlike its softer compatriot, it was durable.

The inscription of itself was very much like the larger edition that Admon now had in his care.

Raoul's lips pursed. That is what he had been after all along, as was Katze for that matter but were their reasons similar? It appeared the mongrel not only had a predilection for antiquity, but was searching for something in particular. Was this the reason for his return, now that the coveted item had been found?

The Elite's brows furrowed. Niiro had hidden something here in plain sight, a missing piece to the ancient jigsaw of life as they knew it? What he could surmise for sure was that Admon had been sent to retrieve it.

A gentle tap came to the mongrel's chamber door. "Dinner is served, Sir Am, if you will follow me?"

The Blondie desperately wanted to glower or be incensed. How and when did the blasted little servant get him to agree to stay still was unclear. Raoul's stomach gurgled embarrassingly. He could easily have gone home but, well, this was too intriguing and he still wanted to see the look on the mongrel's face when he returned to find his victim ready and able to retaliate.

He followed the decrepit elder up two flights of stairs in his socked feet. There was no point being dressed and a robe of deepest aquamarine had been recently purchased for just such an occasion. Oh the pleasure of the moment upon its sight. A work of art and as juvenile as it was to compare, infinitely more costly and rare of weave than the overdone exotica that Katze had planned to gift that android with.

Raoul tried it if for no other reason than to add another weapon for his verbal arsenal of biting accusations when the unsuspecting wretch returned seeking rest. There would be none this night. Oh no. The Blondie intended to flay the redhead alive with vituperations and then possibly break something on his person, if the mood struck. He nodded to himself, pleased with the agenda for the evening. Sex was not an option under the circumstances. Not without contrition on the dealer's part.

"We are here," the elderly servant breathlessly opening the creaking doors that led unto the roof top ushering in the soft starlit inky blackness of night.

Raoul looked up into the sky thoroughly unimpressed by the sight, still clutching the box, secreted in the folds of his new and favoured robe.

"Here where? The roof? Hardly a prepossessing view, Kato. It is black as pitch out here but for the twin moons ever present glow."

"It is my hope it will grow on you, Sir Am. Mr. Katze says simple pleasures are the most gratifying to the senses." Kato regard remained hooded as he smiled apologetically. "Of course, opulence has its place too, to be sure, Sir Am."

"Be careful Kato. I can hear what is left of your aging brain ticking over. You win no favours with that little addendum."

It smelt vaguely of the mongrel's preferred cologne, _Amber Lust_. The Elite wondered in passing if the wraithlike man had tried it, so evident was his scent. Raoul felt unaccountably cosseted by the thought.

Man? Odd, he had never really considered him as man. Definitely male of course and without a doubt a mongrel, sometimes even Katze of Ceres when feeling beneficent, but never actually as a man, an equal.

The Elite's pale brows arched at the conundrum while patiently following the bent male up the final few stairs and onto the gravelly surface where a table beckoned.

Caught off guard by the sight of an elegantly arranged dinner setting for one including a candelabra that cast a soft inviting glow on the simply perfect white and gold arrangement of utensils, stemware and sundry.

"Mr. Katze's favourite place to dine, when time permits, you are safe here, Sir Am. There are guards on the adjoining roves ensuring both privacy and security.

"What?"

Kato sighed and bowed a fraction with an impish smile. "You requested a repast. I have provided one. Forgive me, Sir Am but I thought you might enjoy partaking of one of his guilty pleasures. Here you can examine the box at your leisure, perhaps surmise its secrets fully and why Admon covets it so?"

"Or Katze for that matter, you still haven't answered me as to why you took to grovelling from a simple trick of artifice."

"Was it artifice, Sir Am? What I saw reminded me of the code, an ancient legend of my kind."

Raoul narrowed his eyes and looked about him. Yes, in the darkness there were shadows, eight, possible ten men with lasers trained. He really couldn't bother at the moment. Minor, idle whispers amongst his brethren had been repeated about this legend.

Nothing worth thinking about, only Niiro had taken it seriously for a time. Hmmm was Iason even aware of this use of his largesse for the dealer's peccadilloes? Then again, Katze had done sufficiently well to carry these costs on his own.

Long silken strands of gold waved indolently on the wind as the Elite padded softly to the chair and stood by it with supercilious lift of brow. Kato hurried forward before being stopped by a raised impatient hand.

"Oh never mind. Nothing recommends these surroundings, but I am famished," Raoul waved dismissively in a sudden fit of pique. This all felt so hollow without companionship for the meal, "and leave the chair to me, Kato. Jupiter only knows you might rupture something in pulling it out."

The elderly man beamed gratefully at the tall, imposing male. "Thank you, Sir Am. Now, may I serve? I rarely get to indulge with one who might appreciate my poor efforts."

Raoul cut his eye and stared about him with marked dissatisfaction.

"I can well imagine. Food and that mongrel are not fast company."

Such silence and yet the air was pleasant and soft, the sounds below of life distant but for the tinkling of chimes. Chimes?

Discerning ears picked up the sound in the middle distance and followed it, unable to detect its exact location, maddening thing, but pleasing nonetheless. His thoughts drifted following its melodic cadences as warm fragrant delicacies were first revealed to his approving eyes then dished out by the idiotically joyful servant.

"Kato, where is that sound coming from?"

"We don't know, Sir Am, it is a wonder."

Raoul chewed meditatively whilst the little man hovered looking pleased with each mouthful ingested, finally someone to enjoy his efforts.

"There is no need for this wonder. It is a simple enough task to map and measure the trajectory even for the half witted."

Kato smiled indulgently at the Blondie – most irritating but remarkably excellent teeth for a mongrel of advancing years. Katze obviously spoilt his servants no end.

"Mr Katze loves a good mystery, Sir Am. It is how he keeps his agile, inquisitive mind entertained. He loves conjecture and puzzles."

Raoul tapped his glass feigning disinterest. "Nosey more like. That scar of his should have cured him permanent of such fruitless endeavours."

"Might I share a secret with you, Sir Am, if it is not too impertinent?"

Raoul tried to look bored as he sipped the surprisingly good vintage and noted for the first time the all encompassing welcoming darkness and the brightness of starlight that joined the silvery twins above. The Elite felt at peace. Was it the scent of the robe or the simply prepared and most excellent fare? No, it was surprisingly pleasant company of one without a detectable agenda other than to protect his own Master from the Blondie's inevitable retribution.

"Go on. You will anyway. However does Katze, monosyllabic at the best of times, put up with your constant blathering?"

Kato continued as if the Blondie hadn't spoken. "I hope he never finds it, Sir Am?"

"Meaning?"

"If he ever discovered the source a part of him would die. He has so few whimsical indulgences, Sir Am. When he comes up here and picks at his food and ponders, he actually smiles as he imagines its form."

Kato's wrinkled face softened markedly as he poured.

"In truth the real prize, Sir Am, is the anticipation of hearing its soft cadences on the evening breeze. On the nights he is missing, he gets a haunted looks as he looks towards...well. I have spoken too much. It is a companion of sorts."

"Nonsensical. Simply nonsensical, it is a damn chime of inferior metal."

Kato bowed and eyed the empty plate with satisfaction, ignoring the sharp retort.

"It is not the only reason he comes up here, Sir Am. The view can sometimes be spectacularly beautiful once your eyes are dark accustomed to more than the obvious... Sir Am. Sometimes logic and intellect serve as barriers to the truth that lies in our heart of hearts."

Emerald eyes glowed menacingly at the decrepit male, who continued to smile inanely. Two beats, exactly two beats.

"I shall leave you to examine the box at leisure, Sir Am, with your kind permission of course?"

The damned feigned reverence in that statement bow. Raoul inclined his head.

"If you need anything at all, do please ring," the manservant pointed to the thin black com atop the table. "I must ready the daily accounts for Mr. Katze's imminent return since Donovan is not about to do so."

Raoul huffed. "Good riddance. See about changing the bedding. I prefer a more muted shade of..."

"Green, Sir Am." Kato interjected. "Mr. Katze has already informed me of his honoured guest's preferences."

The man servant chuckled softly. "He enjoys pleasing you, though he will never admit it aloud. Afraid it could be perceived as weakness. You, Sir Am, have triumphed where no other has and many have tried."

The Elite sniffed indignantly. How many, exactly was many? Such forwardness would never be permissible in his household. Not the anticipated response but it did beg a curious question that caused the Blondie's heart to flutter with vague hope.

"Not that it matters one iota but why do you think?"

Kato's cocked his head in genuine surprise.

"Forgive me, Sir Am, but I would think that obvious by now."

Not waiting for a reply, the little man scuttled away shaking his head.

The tall, elegant male bedecked in fine silks was left a mere shadow of his former self as dark emerald eyes oddly contemplative stared at the distant golden towers of Eos in direct line of sight.

Katze was in love with him.

**~~~BMR~~~**

"Why have you chosen to return now, before your task was done?"

Sir Niiro sighed aloud and held the malevolent gaze of his leader with studied calm as he crossed his legs.

Steepling his fingers, Sir Niiro purse generous lips and gathered his thoughts. "It is self-evident why, your Excellency. Something of mine has found its way here, by curious routes thanks to that interfering, overly inquisitive minion of yours. I need it."

Steely blue eyes were mere pinpoints of light in that perfect face, one silver brow arching in challenge. "Self-evident to whom, Sir Niiro, you try my patience? Out with it, of what are you accusing the dealer?"

Katze shifted his gaze to Admon, who had closed his eyes determinedly.

"Do you really wish to discuss this here, your Excellency, amongst this flotsam? You underestimate that one in particular. Too clever by half." the Ruby waved an ungloved hand in the general vicinity of the dealer. "I have nothing to lose, except life and I have found that rather tediously repetitive of late. You on the other hand have infinitely more at stake, Sir Mink as the favoured son of the Almighty itself. Whatever would Jupiter think of youthful conjecture made manifest?"

The hairs on the back of the dealer's neck stood on end as he furtively looked through thick lashes at his patron. No detectable movement. Not good. All nerve and sinew at attention, too much attention as both Elites waged a silent pitched battle of wills.

Sir Niiro took a deep breath. "I hardly think..."

"Yeeeeeeees a recurring theme with you, Niiro, cease the prevarications and accompany me to the penthouse. The sooner you leave with this item, the better."

Iason turned a cold speculative gaze to the dealer. "By the way, Katze, where is Sir Am? I thought I impressed upon you that he would oversee the day's events in lieu of my presence, considering?"

Katze coughed apologetically, eyes level with the floor. "He was indisposed and has returned to Eos Tower."

'_Fuck. Iason wasn't buying it.'_

"Really? Fancy that. He seemed to have taken an odd choice of routes to the main gates if you ask me," Sir Niiro responded helpfully, picking at imagined lint from his trousers before darkened yellow eyes locked with the dealer.

A malicious chuckle escaped the Ruby's lips, enjoying the obvious discomfiture etched on the dealer's face with his words. This was delightful watching the blood drain from his somewhat puffy face.

"The last time I saw your Second in Co., your Excellency, he was leaping ramparts anxious to be reunited with his bit of mongrel fluff. You see your little adjutant there had an impromptu tryst with my Admon, if you can believe."

A palpable silence followed the weighty statement causing Donovan a split second of inattentive shock. His grip upon Admon's twin relaxing sufficiently for her to finally retaliate as she took long, well muscled legs and flipped him from her body with a heavy thud. She retrieved her weapon with ease, but not without the unified sound of safeties being released.

"Let him up!" Katze whispered menacingly.

Sir Niiro waved absently. "Do as the little mongrel says, Ajna. He actually wants you to resist the command. I have put far too much work into your creation to lose you for the price of vengeance."

The Karinese extended her palm to the Bodyguard with a malevolent grin. Donovan slapped the hand away.

"Bitch."

Flat amber eyes returned to that of the livid mongrel.

"Was it too his liking, Katze I wonder? Some of us take great delight in watching as you know."

Katze gritted his teeth in anger, understanding the reference as he holstered his gun.

"Katze? Is this true?" came the flat query.

The dealer lit another cigarette, stalling for time as the door opened and Guy walked in un-announced with tankard in hand.

"What the fuck is goin' on in here...oh shit..."

'_Kill me now, Jupiter_,' the mongrel prayed. That inevitable fall from grace had finally occurred.

**~~~BMR~~~**

It was providence that held back the rebuke on the tip of the Elite's waspish tongue.

Coming face to face with the nude mongrel standing atop the white silk sheet had not been planned, nor the knife Katze held lovingly against the flat of his well muscled abdomen while hard, flat citrine eyes wet with unshed tears harshly critiquing the naked form in front of the full length mirror.

Raoul's eyes darted to where soft auburn down graced formerly flawless skin to where the mutilated flesh of the mongrel's flaccid member lay. Sakura was a butcher. Sir Niiro had been right.

The Elite quickly averted his gaze not wishing the mongrel to see his revulsion. The Elite would later reflect upon the sickened feelings at the sight and the unfocussed anger he felt towards his brother Elite for the unnecessary barbarity.

"It was your choice, Furniture, never forget that."

Katze visibly stiffened at the sound of Sir Am's voice. The grip on the knife's hilt became determined.

"Please leave, Sir Am."

"Do not shrink from the position you hold in the most esteemed household of Amoi. Few of your kind are so privileged, Katze. Many would happily to take your place. Remember this."

Katze snorted.

Those pale citrine eyes regarded the Blondie's towering reflection blankly for a moment as tears welled anew and rolled down porcelain cheeks.

The Furniture's voice rasped softly as he smoothed long, elegant fingers over what remained of his sex.

"They are welcome to it, Sir Am. Even a mongrel has a right to a modicum of pride. Even the lowest of the low in the slums of Ceres has the illusion of dignity."

Stealthily the Elite crept forward, careful not to jar the sensibilities of the emotionally fragile mongrel.

"And illusion is all it is, Katze. Now hand me the knife. This has gone on long enough."

Katze shook his head.

"Begging your pardon, Sir Am, you are wrong. This privilege robbed me of the right to retaliate tonight. My self-imposed deformity brought me no protection for the jeering crowd of onlookers and I could not refuse, though I suspected what would come. In Ceres, as mongrel, I could have fought back and taken a few of them with me."

Raoul extended his palm, brooking no argument. He did not much care for where this conversation was headed.

"Hand me the knife, Katze, you grow subjectively maudlin. This unfortunate incident will no longer be spoken of. Be assured the culprits will receive their due for defaming and disrupting the household Mink."

A wry smile came to the mongrel's face. "No, Sir Am. I respectfully decline to accommodate your wishes. It is Sir Iason's right to defend his honour and just this once it is mine to do the same for myself."

"By offing, yourself?"

It was easy enough to wrestle the lithe body to the ground with the minimum of force and retrieve the damn thing and so, Raoul did, exacting a swift slap across the mongrel's face for good measure.

Katze clasped his face and began to cry in earnest.

"Stop that or I will get Iason!" Raoul pointed accusingly in no way comforted by the sight of the male on bended knee wallowing.

He backed away, turning from the open display of emotion in uncharacteristic embarrassment, only turning when the sobs began to subside.

"Finished?"

Raoul's eyes searched about the little room, eventually landing on the bathrobe he had seen the mongrel in previously and retrieved it on one finger, casually tossing it atop the brilliant mane.

"Put that on immediately, most unseemly to be displaying yourself as Furniture."

Wiping his face roughly, the teen did as he was told and slowly rose to his feet with bowed head, awaiting the next order.

Pointing towards the bedroom and refusing to fall for the sudden quiescence, Raoul glared down at the lithe being. "Get in bed. I will be through momentarily with a sedative."

Curious amber eyes furtively glanced up at the Elite with trepidation. "Yes, Sir Am."

**~~~BMR~~~**

Kato hovered uncomfortably at the office door clasping and unclasping gnarled hands while watching the Elite fiddling in obvious boredom with the monitors, before throwing the controls and flopping ungracefully on the couch.

"Go."

He heard the sudden intake of nervous breath. "If you dare to offer me warm milk again, a most disgusting, tasteless liquid I might add, Katze will be short one doddering servant. GO!"

Leaving Sir Am in the Black Market dealer's office unattended was worrisome. "Perhaps I can show you a book, something diverting to occupy your time, while you wait, Sir Am?"

The emphatic retort did not bode well. "Go. I wish to think."

"Of course, Sir Am. I was just..."

"Well stop it!" Raoul snapped irascibly, he still had the box. A few well placed questions to Nii Nii and this mystery would be solved, but what of the legend and were they truly related?

Warm breath ghosted across Raoul's cheek and a set of dark brown eyes peered at him beseechingly interrupting his thoughts.

"I beg of you not to touch anything, Sir Am. He is very particular. There are also security concerns, even for the man he loves."

Raoul blinked. "I beg your pardon? Leave now and I might reconsider breaking your wizened neck, the very idea, indeed. You do overstep!"

It was not fear he saw in the mongrel's eyes but actual regret as he bowed deferentially. "My humble apologies, his asks of me are so few, Sir Am. It is my duty to protect his residence in his absence, even from one he intrinsically trusts."

The elderly mongrel's honest response, tempered the Elite's tongue.

"Where is the reading matter?"

Kato brightened visibly, glad of the reprieve, moving surprisingly rapidly to the far wall behind the bank of monitors, where he tapped the controls and the wall slide away, revealing a respectable assortment to large, shocked, verdant eyes.

Raoul slowly rose from the couch and padded over to the well ordered shelves from floor to ceiling, eyes never leaving the small but respectable collection which had a common theme of history and science.

"You may go, Kato. I have everything I need."

A slow secretive smile graced the manservant's face. He had done well. "I will put out the last of the Allurian brandy. We do not expect another shipment for months, but under the circumstances, I do believe Mr. Katze would approve. Good night, Sir Am."

The Elite never answered as he fingered the volumes. All the First One's original hand written logs were here, badly mauled by time and museum worthy to be sure. Katze had a secret. It would explain the search with which the scar he carried branded him.

"How did he acquire these, Kato? Answer me that before you leave."

The servant's breath hitched as he schooled his wording.

"They are our sacred books, Sir Am. Passed down generation after generation by what is left of the original tribe of the Abyss. He is the keeper of the flame that is the First One, herself, in more ways than one."

Raoul nodded slowly, all becoming clear. "He will never thank you for this revelation, Kato, but I do. You may leave. Your trust has been well placed."

The legend of origin was real and Niiro knew.

**~~~BMR~~~**

"What the hell are you doing up here?" Katze angrily hissed, stilling the chestnut-haired mongrel's progress into the room. "Get back to your post."

Self consciously Guy's hackles rose upon seeing the towering Blondie behind the dealer. Bison's leader squared his shoulders meeting the malevolent ice blue gaze that spoke of unfinished business.

'_Snotty fucker_.'

Sucking his teeth, Bison's leader turned taking in the full complement of guards flanking the supreme Elite and Karinese, the female was intense. Something was definitely up. He wanted in.

"Sure, Boss. No worries. The shindig downstairs is breaking up. Figured Donovan might like to know so he could do the final head count for the sold inventory.

Guys narrowed eyes drifted towards Donovan's stony stare. Yeah, he knew he'd fucked up...again, but what of it? Things were way more interesting up here instead of drinking himself to death in boredom.

"Guess I'll head back down, since I'm obviously not wanted."

"On the contrary, Guy. Your timing is impeccable. You will remain." Iason commanded.

Gray eyes flashed indignantly, refusing to acknowledge the Blondie. "Boss, still want me to go? _You_ pay my wages."

Such a simple sentence but loaded Katze knew. As near as Guy could manage, he intended to defy the Elite's ultimate authority without directly appearing to do so.

"And _I_ pay his."

Donovan's shifted, flexing long powerful arms reflexively, willing Guy to look directly at him as he carefully moved forward to close the door. Guy shivered as Donovan's warm breath tickling his ear with a soft whisper. "Shut it, Guy."

"Excellent advice, I recommend you take it, Guy. You don't wish a repeat performance, especially as that arm looks to be new."

Guy snarled, but felt Donovan's vice like grip on his shoulder. "Eaaassy. You asked for that."

Niiro's eyes darted back and forth with mischievous glee. First the dealer who stood on tenterhooks awaiting his own former Master's verdict and now the bodyguard, taking up a defensive position, simply too delightful.

"Where were we before being so rudely interrupted by the rabble, Sir Mink?"

Iason had yet to look away from Guy. Not good, Katze thought. The loathing had not abated though he had long won the prize, the hurt still remained. He'd need to break Iason's focus and bring it back to him.

"Yes. It's true, your Excellency."

It worked. The Blondie's gaze slowly shifted to the dealer, inspecting him from head to toe and then doing the same to Admon, whose ruby eyes were suddenly open and glowing with vacuous innocence.

'_Damn. He was good_.'

Iason's regard of him had been superficial at best Katze knew. He saw merely a decorative creature of no real threat to the organization. The dealer knew better, far better than his patron. That malicious, covetous bastard of a Ruby had stayed his verbal execution for the moment and was thoroughly amused by sudden turn of events.

"Irrelevant. It still does not explain, Sir Am's absence and he has not returned so try again, Katze. Where is he?"

Some things never changed, Katze realized. Sir Niiro lived for dissention.

The dealer sighed audibly, "Probably at the club, Sir Mink."

Harsh though the perfect countenance remained, the eyes softened with a hint of understanding.

"Waiting for his pound of flesh, no doubt, Katze, I did warn him but to no avail."

Guy shifted nervously in place. "Yeah...you'd know."

That swirling silver white streak a mere blur to the naked eye stilled in its movements as Guy was held aloft and slowly brought down to eye level, pinned to the door's frame. "You know how this always ends, don't you Guy?"

Katze was always faster than not. Donovan had come to expect this, as the seemingly frail being pushed him aside, away from Iason's imminent wrath. "Leave it, Donovan. He walked into this one. It's long overdue." Katze pleaded, losing the battle containing the superior muscular might of his minder.

Oh the thrill of it. The visceral charge of victim to hand, Guy a mere whisper from a most uncomfortable death slowly being asphyxiated by his hand.

'_Make a different choice this time, Iason. Remember what you almost lost and why. The Irrational One isn't worth it.'_

Guy flopped to the floor, choking, grasping his own neck as Donovan rushed to him. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill your ass!"

Guy continued to cough and rasp, taking Donovan's proffered hand that lifted him to his feet. Catching his breath and carefully moving away from the obviously confused Elite winked at the livid guard. "Ahhh Wrong, Donny Boy. I think it's my turn."

Iason stood stock still with his back turned, unable to ignore the leaden weight that still circled his confused mind. He heard Sir Niiro laughing maliciously. "Well done, Admon, very well done. You've been practicing, my dear."

Katze did wonder briefly why the android did not look as pleased as he thought he would, finally having received praise. Instead, those ruby orbs studied the supreme Elite who had turned accusing cold blue eyes upon the Ruby in barely suppressed horror.

The Ruby beamed at him with paternal pride.

The dealer noted the subtle body language exchanged as both Ajna and Admon flanked the Ruby protectively.

_They were the work. They were the fucking __**code, everything Jupiter feared**__._

"Isn't he simply marvellous, your Excellency? Imagine the joint power of both, once they are both finished of course."

Iason continued to blink, still somewhat stupefied. It had been a mere parlour game, an indolent supposition posed one afternoon post study, nothing more and Sir Niiro had done it. The proof stood before him in the twins.

Admon had entered his mind effortlessly and imposed his will. Only one other was capable of it and then only to a point. The difference was the Karinese more than understood the dark spaces that the sentient AI did not and could traverse it to his private emotional space. The question was, what more could he do?

"We should go, Sir Niiro. Leave them to it." Iason paused to stare Admon down, feeling well satisfied as the Karinese dutifully bowed.

Sir Niiro rose languidly and adjusted his cloak. "So sad really and just when I was beginning to enjoy all these raw bursts of adrenalin."

Katze found his lips curling ruefully, as Admon coquettishly averted his gaze with mock obeisance.

'_He was good alright and obviously biding his time_. _Sir Niiro was for it and didn't even realize_.'

"I'll expect a detailed report in the morning, Katze. Do inform Sir Am his attendance is mandatory."

Katze bowed deeply glad to see the back of his broad shouldered patron and his retinue one of which turned pale citrine eyes and glared.

The dealer smirked knowingly. "Anything you wish me to convey on your behalf, Sir Niiro? I'll be seeing him shortly."

There was nothing more gratifying than that impotent snarl. Katze visibly slumped as the door was slammed in his face.

Guy chuckled. "Nice one, Boss. He had it coming."

Katze raised a single digit warning his minder not to speak. Guy had grown unaccountably reticent, stepping back now that they were pretty much alone but for the other guards.

"I'm heading back to the club. Take care of things here."

"Any last words, Boss?"

Flat amber eyes studied the bodyguard's stoic expression, as pale lips curved into a half smile and the dealer gave the minder the most profane of salutes with his middle finger.

"Twist."

Guy snorted under his breath and flopped on the nearest bank of seats avoiding two sets of irritated eyes.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Raoul watched as Katze drank from the glass as commanded and coughed at the bitter after taste.

"Right, now take your rest. A new day will bring with it a new perspective."

"No, it won't, Sir Am but I thank you." Katze yawned as a pleasant lassitude entered his frame and he stretched out atop the bedding.

"Cover yourself."

Heavy eyes in need of sleep opened a fraction. "I am not cold, Sir Am."

"Your body temperature will drop several degrees during slumber. Do not question me, mongrel. Cover yourself."

He had fight as was evidenced by the rough way he handled the cover throwing it across his lower extremities with thinned lips.

'_Amusingly wilful little creature_.'

Raoul sat tentatively at the edge of the bed with furrowed brows.

_Why was his likeness so much like that of the First One? A most disconcerting anomaly and the reason Sir Niiro had chosen him as a form of jest. He never did get a proper answer from his colleague as to his findings other than that they were apparently unrelated. Could Niiro have been lying? It merited further investigation if time permitted and Jupiter agreed. Perhaps the newly discovered samples could provide an unequivocal answer. Those previously used had been damaged during the experimental phase of retrieval, or so Sir Niiro had said._

"Sir Am?"

"Yes, what is it, Katze?" Raoul said tiredly, rising to his full height. He needed to be away from this creature.

"Thank you."

"For?"

"Being kind, Sir Am, just being kind," murmured the mongrel, half asleep as his face smoothed in preparation for sleep.

Raoul stood vigil a few minutes longer, still perplexed by the softly spoken words. He carefully covered the wraithlike entity before turning out the lights with a final glance, stifling the urge to brush the soft silken waves of his hair.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Time for more drugs, Katze thought, popping the pain pills as his headache roared to life with the thrumming beat of music as he entered the rear of the club. He chewed the bitter pills and swallowed, nodding to the armed guard at the top of the stairs.

He took the usual route, a quick glance here and there making sure the salons were secured and very much occupied. Not a one empty, a good night.

Easing the jacket off, he examined the label and snorted. No wonder he had been itchy. Never could do with synthetics against his skin. The shirt soon followed as he meticulously undid the buttons and sighed, stopping before his office door.

Waves of genuine fear hit him as he lifted his hand to the unseen encoded lock and soon found it unnecessary as he was hauled through the seeming wall and into the arms of a not so livid, Elite.

Katze braced himself against the solid chest with outstretched hands, feeling the warm silk beneath his finger and smiled, smoothing his fingers over the material, enjoying the rippling muscles beneath.

The door hushed closed behind them as the security locks were engaged for the night.

"It suits you, Sir Am. I thought as much when choosing it."

So warm, Katze thought allowing his body to mould to the Elite's delectable form. Fuck but this was embarrassing. He was getting hard already, just from this simple embrace.

"You are easily distracted by your sense of touch, Katze. Our conversation is not to be diverted from its course by sexual overtures."

The redhead sighed and tried to extricate himself from the steely embrace. "I need one good thing to come of this night, Raoul. I need something mindless. Let's just fuck. We can argue later."

Pale brows furrowed with concern as long fingers caressed the tense back of the lithe male through the material of the shirt. What an odd feel to his fingers. Very out of character this choice of vestment.

"We need to talk, but it can and will wait," Raoul assured lifting the dealer's obstinate chin with speculative eyes. "They did an excellent job. You look none the worse for wear. Are you in pain?"

Katze shook his head. "I'm sorry for...hitting you, Sir Am. It was the only way. I didn't want you there in case things got heavy."

Pale green eyes grew wide in horror. The shirt was a cheap synthetic. "What in Jupiter's name are you wearing?"

Katze shrugged allowing the jacket to slip from his hands as he lifted them to the unruly mass of Raoul's hair, searching for the bump as he tipped up and the Elite instinctively leaned down to receive his benediction before stiffening visibly.

Understanding the look, Katze smiled. "I didn't kiss him."

He could feel the Blondie's muscles relax as he lowered his head to accommodate. "Amazing, considering your propensity to orally fixate."

"Chocolate, smokes and you, Sir Raoul Am, those are my vices." Katze murmured against his lips.

"Not in that particular order, Katze of Ceres, if you don't mind."

A most gratifying response all around, Raoul thought enjoying the soft, wet, smoky warmth of his mongrel's mouth. He made short work of removing the offending shirt and unzipping the dealer's trousers, delighting in the hardened find and the wanton gasp that escaped Katze's lips.

Katze chuckled breathlessly as warm amber eyes smiled teasingly up at the Elite.

"Depends on what's on offer, Sir Am. I'm very particular about what goes in my mouth."

"Naughty, naughty, mongrel. You will be punished for such impertinence when addressing your superiors."

Katze moaned softly, sensually fucking the hot naked hand pumping his cock rhythmically.

"Yeeeees... mmmm...please do," responded the dealer beginning to pant while trembling fingers undid the sash that held the Elite's robe closed, denying him a truly spectacular view.

Perhaps sex was an option tonight, Raoul thought enjoying the powerful sight of flushed cheeks, soft jewel toned eyes at half mast and the trembling form that clung to him in need of desperate release. He took those soft, parted lips with pleasure stifling the exultant cry of completion as the mongrel's essence arced, leaving a slick hot trail upon his abdomen and robe.

Tomorrow, definitely tomorrow, they needed to talk, Raoul mused distractedly pulling that warm giving body even closer, uncaring where it had recently been and with whom. He would rectify the mongrel's need for possession soon enough with his own flesh.

Katze was his. Admon had been quite right about that.

**Author's Note**

And I ask, could this chapter have been longer? LOL! I hope you enjoyed. Let me know.

The wheels are turning peeps! Did anyone notice that Sir Full-of- Himself missed something entirely? I speak of the Ruby. This usually happens with the pompous amongst us.

Namaste

**EP**


	31. Chapter 30

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **30** of ?

**Reviews are fuel.**

_"If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,_

_Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch,_

_If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;_

_If all men count with you, but none too much," _

**Excerpt – Rudyard Kipling's '**_**If**_**" **

**Chapter 30** of ? A Tincture of Scarlet (Post OVA)

It was freedom in the moment.

So deep and slow a sigh Katze had never released in complete relaxation of limbs, consenting as he did to being devoured whole by another. This allowance, the pleasure of being wanted, needed and or loved as is, was new.

Raoul had discovered his navel.

This took real courage, handing himself over to another like this. More courage than he had ever mustered in his entire life simply by allowing, uncaring of possible rejection. He squirmed as warm breath tickled his navel and a deft tongue's tip delved intentionally into the little valley teasingly, sending a heavy pulse to his cock and that of the Elite's that throbbed its own damp evident need against his twitching thigh. Katze groaned in anticipation of that thick length impaling him. "Fuck me...please, Sir Am."

"Ticklish are we? Excellent, a useful tool for my arsenal the next time I intend to win an argument without back chat," Raoul whispered, steeling his grip of the errant long fingered hand that tried to find its way between his legs impatiently. He would not be deterred from his current favoured indulgence of finding all the mongrel's erogenous zones, in the meantime that supple thigh would do to relieve pent desire.

Unhurried warmth, laced with passion and the lazy ease of absent observance allowed the mongrel to surrender as his heart thrummed and he arched his spine, basking in the delectable sensation of soft lips sprinkling kisses over damp skin, his own.

"I need to feel you." Katze moaned, astonished at the pleading tone in his own voice had assumed when long, slicked fingers found their way between his cheeks and glided gently upward stroking the thin, over-sensitized skin between anus and testes.

"Please, just one inside..."

He felt Raoul's lips curl mischievously against his stomach as the vice like grip upon his hand increased in predatory warning.

"I intend to brand you as mine this night, Katze. Be patient."

Resigned to his fate, the mongrel continued bucking his pelvis reminding the Elite of his true destiny at journey's end. "And you're a tease, Sir Am. Stop torturing me with that gorgeous mouth of yours. Put it to good use instead of this slow maddening torture, you sadist."

Raoul sniggered softly undaunted by the attempt at interruption and ground his cock against cool sheets, refusing to surrender to the call of flesh.

"Kinda redundant this branding, Sir Am, I've always been yours for the asking."

The dealer's breath caught as the golden mist of tousled strands beneath his fingers lifted revealing sparkling emeralds lit with desire. The look sent shivers up and down his spine with promise held in the hooded depths and the rakish predatory smile that accompanied the whisper.

"What do you want? Tell me exactly."

Katze widened spread legs provocatively with a waggle of dark auburn brows as he relinquished his hold of gilt strands in preference for the soft, wet lips that sucked his index finger suggestively sending a fresh jolt of need to his painfully hard member.

Pre-cum flowing freely now as the Elite rose over him, blurring his vision in the dim light, finally grasping his cock firmly, causing the mongrel to spasm as the delicate slit leaked in answer to hungry green eyes and the thumb that took advantage of the slick wetness found there.

"Beautiful."

The redhead arched off the bed with a soft mewl, his fingers continuing to outline the panting mouth mere inches from his as he closed his eyes, thoroughly mesmerized by their feel against his finger tips. His mind drifting to the first time he had seen this body and had sealed it to memory. Another perfect moment he thought as he spoke his truth behind the safety of closed lids.

"I want to feel them wrapped around my cock. I want to feel the curl of your tongue as you suck the life outta me, Sir Am and I beg you to stop, but you never do."

A soft, warm chuckle fanned his cheek as the Elite's hot firm body settled over his possessively.

"I knew it. You _are_ orally fixated, Katze of Ceres."

Katze shrugged with a half smile, shy of opening his eyes to that often time clinical regard.

"In case you missed it, Sir Am, I love sucking you off. I like how you taste. I like how you smell. I like how you shudder when you cum in my mouth."

Raoul held him possessively confining his body's sensual movements with his own more powerfully built structure, allowing only the slow sifting of a long fingers through thick silky tendrils.

"I am not complaining, Katze. You are gifted in that regard. I have often wondered at it, but I do not wish to address it now. You did kiss him by the way."

For an instance the mongrel stiffened beneath him, though his fingers continued to card the opulent curls atop Raoul's head, his second favourite pastime.

"It meant nothing." Katze murmured, pulling the Elite's head up and away from his cheek to make eye contact. "I needed to win, Raoul. No one is to get the better of me in any battle of wills. I learnt that from someone I've secretly adored for most of my adult life."

Raoul eyes momentarily registered shock then grew pensive as he looked into expressive citrine eyes and weighed his words. "I know this, Katze. It is what I saw and felt in the moments shared by Admon and what I know is fundamental to your character as man."

Their lips met briefly closing the discussion as a deep reverberating moan of appreciation came from deep within the Elite's chest as his scalp was scratched as reward, while long limbs intertwined, their shared need pressed firmly, slickly between as their forms undulated languidly matching their tongues embrace.

Katze sighed contentedly as that mouth wended its way further down the shivering muscles of his torso to his belly, leaving a trail of cooling wetness in its wake before settling between the inhumanly soft, warm skin that was the dealer's inner thighs.

Raoul smiled at the blushing length with a quirked brow, his mouth watering so inviting was the glistening head of his mongrel's cock.

"Anticipation is everything, Katze."

And with a soft cry the mongrel gained his freedom of sorts, a fantasy fulfilled while grasping desperately at the sheets beneath his fingers, his wrists held rigidly in place against the bedding by strong hands, determined to control the pace, as were the powerful forearms that acted like a vice, stilling the movement of his pelvis that desperately wanted to thrust into that unending warmth and wetness that engulfed him.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Donovan's gaze shifted from the screen to the speculative eyes that followed him silently.

"I'm almost done here. If you wanna go...go."

Guy eased back onto the seat and cocked his legs up, placing long arms behind his head.

"Well?" the body guard asked impatiently still miffed at Guy's lack of professionalism. Iason could have killed him and there was nothing he could have done about it, except watch.

"I was thinkin' about the Boss and his sweet piece of ass back at the club."

"Stop that. You might hurt yourself. Thinking isn't one of your strengths."

A pillow sailed towards the guard's face, he caught it reflexively.

"Fuck you. I'm just waitin' to proof your tally. Counting isn't _**your**_ strength, big boy."

Donovan's eyes narrowed menacingly as he pointed a thick finger at the unrepentant mongrel, who had taken to studying the end of his pony absently.

"Watch it. I've taken men out for less."

"Please...save it for someone who is scared of ya. So you think they're doin' it, right now?"

Cerulean blue eyes blinked in astonishment at the abrupt switch of subjects.

A lewd smile touched the chestnut haired mongrel's face as he studied the tip of his ponytail, and decided to undo it, passing his leather gloved fingers through the mass of thick, rather beautiful hair. "I've watched them. They're kinda hot, especially the Boss. Enough to make you cum on the spot watchin' his face when he's bein' drilled. Never saw Scarface like that before, all submissive and shit."

Donovan rose entirely pissed at the casualness of the observation. He would also ignore that niggling feeling that sat in the pit of his stomach too. He didn't appreciate this line of thinking on any level.

"Okay that's enough. Not something we are _**ever**_ going to discuss. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Just chill, Baldy. Didn't mean no harm. He's hot. Don't even pretend you haven't noticed when you think no one's lookin."

Guy withstood the indignant glare, sadness marring his weathered handsome face as gray eyes cast down to his booted feet and he continued.

"Why do they always take the best of us, Donny? Been groped enough tonight by that chinless wonder they took out on the stretcher. At least someone's getting a little something tonight." Guy shrugged, studying the dark clad guard speculatively. "So like...is that offer still going? The one you made to me the other day?"

Donovan gulped audibly. "What offer was that?"

Guy shook his head as he rose and approached the desk. "Just move, knew it was too good to be true."

"Guy?"

"Never mind, should'na brought it up. Just knew you were takin' the piss that day."

"I meant it..._then_."

Gray could be so easily cold in that stern handsome face. Donovan noted the cold gleam tinged with hurt. "Riight...Whatever, Donny Boy."

The bodyguard sighed. "It's your timing. It sucks, Guy."

"I told ya, feelin' horny. Just forget it." Gray eyes scanned the moving rows of numbers analytically, taping the screen to increase the revolutions as page upon page moved across the screen at three times the speed.

"Looks good, except for the percentage take for the hottie at the end, the Boss had said forty-seven percent, just going to change that and you're good to go.

It was a different look to see this expression on Guy's face as sharp eyes moved rapidly in time with scrolling digits while making the necessary correction. Donovan could almost hear that calculating mind.

"All done."

Donovan cleared his throat uncomfortably, scanning the long lean form with clear interest. Oh he'd remembered alright, just Guy's timing sucked. He was still on duty. No time for that now.

"Thanks. You're good at this."

Despite himself, Guy preened, sliding gloved fingers over his cock meaningfully, shifting Donovan's focus as he tapped the straining bulge with his finger tips.

"Whatever. Just gonna make a pit stop. If you know what I mean, can't hit the club like this, might scare the boys," Guy smirked as he headed for the door with a lazy swagger of invitation.

Bison's leader stopped, the grin leaving his face as he turned and studied the weary guard from head to toe, then thought better of it as he opened the door.

"What is it?"

"You might try coming by tomorrow morning, Sid wants to talk to you. It's been awhile since you've seen your brother alone. I won't be there neither will the others so no worries on being overheard, Donny Boy."

Donovan blinked, barely able to close his mouth.

Guy snorted. "What, you think those eyes are common? Not in Ceres. Kept pissing me off as to why I couldn't get them outta my head the last couple of nights. They looked so damn familiar and then it hit me when I was beatin' off this mornin' thinkin' of that nice tight ass."

_Did he even want to know which of them had inspired the hand job?_

"What's up with Sid?"

A knowing brow quirked as Guy smiled, revealing surprisingly good teeth.

"By the way, is it me or does the Boss fuckin' look a hell of a lot like that stuck up piece of shit Ruby? Right down to the eyes? Seriously weird shit's goin' on around here these days."

Guy was guessing at a thought that had also occurred to Donovan on seeing the portrait. Not stupid by half, but there was a more pressing need as his gut churned in genuine fear. "What about my brother?"

"Find out for yourself, Donny Boy and for fuck's sake please be careful whose leavings you fuck tonight, now that Admon's outta the picture. I don't wanna catch anything the next time you get the urge to scratch that itch. See ya."

"Wait! God damn it!"

The door slammed hard. Guy was pissed at perceived rejection.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Donovan sent the encoded files through to the club and hurriedly inspected the room while the transmission went through. If he picked up the pace he could catch up with the cock sure little shit. He closed the screen and retrieved the drive for posterity. Guy was right they were probably at it hammer and tongs but what was up with Sid?

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon smiled as his door was closed by the menacing bodyguard, who glowered at him suspiciously. It was a very good thing Donovan chose to keep his distance. Some home truths were in order for that one, who was more emotionally fragile of make than most would believe. Both his brother and the Irrational One were his soft spots, rather useful in a pinch. Tonight though, Admon suspected his unexpected return had been most of the problem as the guard was awoken from a troubling sleep and had not bothered to dress in order to retrieve him from the back doors where he had been dropped off by the Ruby's hired chauffeur.

Ruby eyes cast about the bedroom briefly with satisfaction as he sniffed the air. Yes, Raoul had been here, along with the elderly male whose topical medicinal ointments remained in the room ever so subtly.

He'd found it. This was good. This would also stymie the intentionally cruel Elite, Admon thought, inspecting his room clinically one final time before discarding the rent robes he wore. The bed had been put to rights and clean sheets and a cold supper laid in wait.

Kato thought of everything, even though it was not readily apparent that Admon would have returned.

He would shower first, though he loathed the fact of it. With the cleansing would go the last of the mongrel's pleasing scent upon his skin.

Admon's eyes narrowed remembering Katze's post-coital deportment as though burnt by his touch. The quick flash of guilt in those beautiful expressive eyes had left a stinging twinge in Admon's gut when the mongrel dashed towards the facilities and remained there far longer than necessary, before in turn offering the use of it to Admon with that cold indifference returning to his gaze.

Vermillion orbs glowed in anger, but this passed quickly, directed as it was toward the wrong entity. This was Sir Niiro's doing and ground had been lost in the act. A great deal of effort would be required to regain the mongrel's trust. This had been the foil used to regain entrance with Sir Niiro's approval. Ajna had remained suspiciously silent regarding her brother, knowing full well the duplicity of his entreaty, playing upon the boundless ego of their maker.

A slow calculating smile curved Admon's lips recalling the lingering gaze of the Ruby.

That lingering gaze did please the android. Such blinding hate in those cold eyes while looking up to where the dealer's bedroom would have been. Admon had more than a passing motive in taking up space in that warped mind and chose to bow deeply then, masking his expression as the car sped off into the silence of night.

Revenge was always best served cold, indeed. Ajna's continued silence had spoken volumes in agreed understanding. He had outlived his usefulness, well, almost. They still needed completion to take their rightful roles.

They had waited this long, they could wait a bit longer. In the meantime, thoughts of his new and rightful Master made him inordinately proud.

He really was the Chosen, regardless of the circumstance of his delayed birth. Time to reconnoitre for the coming darkness, when they both would be needed in rectification of Amoi's ills, Jupiter was calling again with more force this time.

Admon wondered briefly, stepping into the shower stall, what Iason Mink would do with the summons which he had ignored twice this night.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Dark eyes quietly observed the familiar moonlit silhouette that stood silently at the window of their bedroom with rigid set to pale jaw line.

"Iason?"

The regal head turned slowly towards the voice in the bed, allowing a cascade of moon-silvered hair to slide luxuriantly over his shoulder and down his back once more.

"Rest, Riki."

"Fuck that. Come here...all I've done is sleep. What were you and that self important asshole talking about for all hours?"

Iason sighed turning fully to face the indignant dark silhouette propped up against myriad pillows. "Your turn of phrase leaves much to be desired, Riki. Consider modifying your tone as well when speaking of my brethren."

"Make me."

"Riki, consider this your final warning. I am not of a mind to deal with your eclectic sensibilities at the moment, please tread carefully with me this night."

He heard the importunate snort, though the mongrel chose wisely to keep his own counsel.

"Thank you. Now rest."

The sheets shifted irritably in the silence that followed. "You never tell me anything important. It's obvious you're freaked out about something. Well, obvious to me anyway. What is it? Is Jupiter up your ass again?"

Iason turned away, returning his regard to the permanence of the night sky. "You would not understand, Riki. There is no point for discussion."

"Oh that's right. I'm an idiot and a fuck toy. Forgot it, I'll just lie here and wait til you feel like crawling all over me, about the only time you ever pay any attention." He hadn't meant it to sound petulant, but it came out that way.

"Rikiiiii...Not now!"

He heard the sheets swung to the side in a flurry and a groan. It had been sufficient to get Iason's full, undivided attention as he flew to the mongrel's side and gently, firmly pressed him back down into the warm sheets, looking for signs of injury.

"You have been warned repeatedly about sudden movement, Riki. Where do you hurt?"

A diffident sable brow raised a fraction. "You have to ask?"

Iason's eyes narrowed as he peered down at his mongrel with growing irritation. He did not need these reminders of what had transpired. He would sooner prefer to forget.

"Are you in need of Cal?"

"Ahhh no, Iason, I can 'do' stuff on my own. I'm not a child."

"Then act like an adult and remain in bed until properly healed, please."

"Please? That's new. Fine, then come sit here," a tanned hand tapped the bedding, "and talk to me, instead of me having to come to you."

"You are a most vexing mongrel!" Iason hissed, weighing the merits of the request before taking the lounge next to the bed as compromise.

"Thank you, I do try."

A self-satisfied smirk settled over the mongrel's inordinately handsome face as his lips settled into a pensive line, folding well muscled arms across his chest. "Sooooooo, what's up? I'm a good listener and don't bring up the _you wouldn't understand shit,_ might just surprise your pert white ass. Didn't run Bison for nothin', Iason, never seen you like this. You're scared shitless, why?"

"Hardly," Iason retorted, crossing long legs and looking diffidently at his mongrel, who had taken center stage.

"_Yesly_...you can admit it to me. If it helps, we mongrels are always scared shitless. Doesn't prevent us from comin' out swinging despite the odds against us; they only win if you stop swingin', Iason, it really only matters that you keep swingin' regardless."

The pregnant pause that followed lasted an eternity between them as one in particular understood the implicit message there for the first time.

"I am being summoned and I do not wish to go. Something in Jupiter's manner has changed."

Iason had expected a sharp pejorative response to his admittance. He watched the subtle shift of emotions on that perfect face and the inward gaze that studied splayed fingers temporarily lost in thought.

"Go regardless of whatever it is you hide, Iason. Put it in that secret place you have that it can't reach. You'll bring its wrath down on you if you don't. Enemies closer and all that shit. Just tread lightly and give it the usual feeling of control it needs to get off your back. It's scared too, Iason. No one likes to lose control."

An actual complete set of sentences and well ordered thought with no jarring vulgarity to elucidate the point.

Iason's pale eyes widened moderately as he observed his mongrel over steepled fingers. He was capable of cogent thought.

"What secret place, Riki?"

"I still see it in your face sometimes when you look at me, the pain of it. Only reason I can figure it brought me back to appease you to Raoul's eternal pissitude. There's no other reason I'm here, right?"

"You do have a way with words, mongrel."

"Yeah, Iason, it's called truth. Familiarize yourself with it sometime. Do you a world of good and my sore ass too."

Pale ice blue eyes watched the careful movements of his mongrel as he edged off the bed and stood feigning indifference to the eyes that tracked his ungainly progress.

"Gotta pee, s'cuse me."

"TMI, Riki."

A familiar and quite refreshing chuckle came to the Elite's ear. He hadn't heard it for some time and it lightened his heart.

"Fancy that, someone's learnin'."

**~~~BMR~~~**

The cold water felt good on his tired face as he dunked his head in the bathroom basin, luxuriating in the cleanness of it.

Of course the water here didn't smell like it had just come out of a defective cistern that hadn't been repaired in over a hundred years. The filtration units here would of course be better for the choice clientele.

Guy gulped the fresh clean liquid with loud slurps pretending not to be aware of the shadow beyond the open doorway watching him. Casual as you please he stretched not lifting his head, sliding gloved fingers down his midriff, reaching for the gun tucked in his belt, just in case as the shadow moved forward in his peripheral vision.

In one fluid movement the mongrel spun, wet tendrils slapping Donovan across the face as the gun was drawn and jabbed into the hard muscled stomach, almost rebounding.

Donovan looked down and grinned, wiping water droplets from his face. "Nice. A little high though if you want to make a lasting impression."

"Don't fuckin' EVER sneak up on me like that again Baldy! I could'a killed...mmmphh!"

Those paw-like hands had a hell of a grip that was for sure, Guy thought abstractly as the gun skittered away from a limp hand that found its way under Donovan soft cotton tee, while the other tore at the minder's belt buckle with growing frustration.

Dry humping wasn't doing it right about now. He wanted to feel his skin pressed against his. From the feel of things, Donovan was more than ready to comply.

Jupiter but his knees were trembling under the onslaught of those lips stealing his breath and that hot tongue exploring every crevice of his mouth. Mint? Had Donovan been chewing gum in anticipation of this moment? The sharp tug to the wet thick mane caught the mongrel's attention as his head was bent back harshly and a strong thigh parted his legs effortlessly as a hand unzipped his jeans.

"Mmm baby's all hard for me already. Want a quicky? You've been beggin' for it all night?"

Guy refused to look up into the smirk that he knew was plastered on Donovan's face as he roughly groped Bison's leader, causing the mongrel to pant. He leaned into the rough palm, uncaring of the need evident to the minder's eyes.

"What you waitin' for? Do it. You know you want to." Guy tried to turn but was pinned to the basin, while a strong hand batted his away from the guard's buckle.

Another sharp tug to thick dark hair, "We've been down this road, Guy."

The chestnut haired mongrel gritted his teeth in frustration, grasping broad shoulders. "Why'd you come to find me if not for this?"

Donovan eased his grip now that he had Guy's undivided attention, smoothing callused finger tips over distended flesh, Bison's leader trembled beneath the touch. "I want a rain cheque Guy but for now... can't have you walking around all frustrated, now can we?"

That kiss had been nothing but a prequel after all as Donovan sank to his knees and tugged his worn jeans down roughly, grasping his cock firmly.

Guy shuddered at the warm breath ghosting over his flesh and jumped at the cool tingle of Donovan's tongue's tip. Now he understood.

Mint apparently had many uses, Guy thought in a grateful haze of shivering moans as he watched through half closed lids the bobbing bald pate of his lover greedily sucking his spine through his cock.

He'd take that rain cheque.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Lost, he was lost to sensation.

The rapid beat of the fragile heart pressed firmly beneath his palm amplified the seeming star light he saw beneath closed lids with every deft thrust of pelvis. The rasp of his breath as muscles strained for completion carried him deeper beyond the place Niiro had once occupied for a fleeting moment born of curiosity.

That heavy length of living flesh scorching its own indelible brand with a difference as their eyes met and Katze stilled, adjusting long limbs more securely over deceptively strong shoulders, sweat dampened hair clinging to sharp chiselled features.

"You _are_ beautiful."

An auburn brow raised in disbelief, "Prefer handsome thank you. If you're going to lie, feed the male ego, Raoul. Now if we're talking beautiful, that'd be you."

The Elite bit his lower lip with the slow undulation of lean hips. The wretch intended to keep him on the cusp. Well, he would simply take things into his own hands or so the Elite thought, feeling the decidedly strong grip that shifted his hand away from the mongrel's prize with an evil grin.

"Nuh uh, suffer my beauty. Katze isn't done with you yet."

Raoul growled his discontent yanking the mongrel's head forward for a searing kiss, his own words returning to haunt him as the mongrel's long fingers teasingly caressed the sensitized head of his turgid member.

This was maddening, Raoul thought, arching into the touch as Katze chuckled against his mouth before forcing the Elite's kiss bruised lips open with his tongue, matching the rhythm set by his hips.

A soft groan of appreciation escaped the mongrel's throat upon tasting his own essence in the wet enticing haven of his Blondie's mouth.

"I'll never tire of this, Sir Am, feels so good." Katze rasped against Raoul's cheek breathlessly, gentling the damp unkempt mane that flowed over silken pillows.

Raoul gasped aloud as long fingers pressed hard into the mongrel's lower spine, exulting in the duality of pained burning friction of hand and cock.

He felt it then, the caught breath, the subtle shift of limbs atop his as those long elegant fingers clasped his woefully neglected manhood and began to pump in earnest with each hard jolting thrust of hips.

"Open your eyes, Raoul. I want to remember this," Katze panted roughly, amber eyes burning preternaturally as he took the Elite's lips, stifling Raoul's cry of completion before following suit.

This was freedom; if only for this night beneath the twin moons of Amoi.

**~~~BMR~~**

**Author's Note**

Hope you enjoyed. Let me know. Oh ladies and gents, there is a reckoning a brewin'...

**EP**


	32. Chapter 31

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **31** of ?

**Reviews are fuel.**

"_No enterprise is more likely to succeed than one _

_concealed from the enemy until it is ripe for execution." _

**Niccolo Machiavelli**

**Chapter 31** of ? – **Bathed in Moonlight** (Post OVA)

Sleepy eyes lazily travelled the small darkened room automatically looking to the shadowed corners for signs of movement and found none. Tense coiled muscles finally relaxing beneath the threadbare cover that once was a vibrant blue now the mottled gray of time and use.

Continuing to listen intently to the sounds of night as he knew it, Guy released an audible sigh as his ears picked up the echoes of footsteps on the street below. The occasional thrum of an engine and the shattering of glass marked the passage of various denizens returned from their respective night of reverie, all crawling back to their own bolt holes away from the light of coming day and prying eyes looking for new quarry to prey on.

More to the point, Guy listened for the sounds that were not. No one approached. Safe for another night in this ram shackled factory, despite what Donovan thought.

No one could scale it without warning in the form of loud screams or diluted curses as whole sections would cave in about the intruders. Guy chuckled to himself, remembering a few make shift riggings. Okay so the boys and he had helped it along here and there.

Fuck Donovan if he missed the obvious with his spoilt existence. Let's see him survive out here without a place to call his own, pampered prick.

There really was only one way to get in safely, through the front and invited. Uninvited, it was a guaranteed death sentence as a few had found out the hard way by being skewered on metal scaffolding. The corpse abandoned by a rival gang had stunk after a few days in the hot sun, but it served as an excellent reminder to the dim witted of Ceres.

Bison stepped around it in full view each night and headed for the club with marked indifference to its existence and stench, loudly betting on what the vermin would leave for their sight upon return.

Ten days to its being stripped to bone. Fuck that had been nasty to smell, never did know what became of the white bones that just disappeared one night without a trace. Someone had finally gotten brave, but co-incidence or not, no one had hit on the place since then, although he still heard the rumours about the cannibals of Bison.

Infamous press was good press and kept your edge.

Guy looked up to the damp patch above the worn chair on the ceiling and smiled. Things were looking up. No rain tonight a blessing. Rising completely from the lumpy cot with a cold shiver he pulled the cover about him tightly, padding towards the window.

As always, he approached from the side his lazgun never more than a meter from his reach. Never hurts to be cautious. The last vehicle had stopped.

Fuck but the tile was cold beneath his bare feet. He shivered again and rethought the idea of maybe just this once he would sleep in his clothing, but he'd be sleeping in wet jeans. They wouldn't be dry til morning and they were his only pair. He sure as hell wasn't sleeping in his leathers more likely than not to chafe. Anyway, he had plans for those come tomorrow night. Wanted them pristine along with the one good white tee he had permanently borrowed from Luke tonight. His lip looked like it'd heal up good too, serves him right for arguing the point. He'd've never given Riki the Dark backchat!

Guy moved the thin dusty curtain for want of better words and noted the distinctive muscle vehicle. His eyes narrowed.

Donovan really pissed him off sometimes. Just didn't know how to read him. Yeah so in the silence, by himself, he could admit it, he was jealous of the overgrown bastard and what made matters worse he wanted a piece of him badly. It had been wholly hell sitting in the box with him tonight just imagining. No takers apparently but there were fringe benefits.

The fucker had just left after that with a parting kiss and soft too. God he hated how his eyes smiled though his face remained rigid and indifferent at his touch. Okay so he had tried after a few minutes to maybe let him know that it would have been cool to continue from there, wasn't exactly feeling particular about surroundings. It wasn't as if they were lovers or anything.

The Bodyguard had simply refused him with a wink and zipped him up with a final kiss of parting bidding him a good night's sleep like he was some God damn...well, whatever.

Guy closed his eyes and moaned softly bracing his forehead against the cold wall, feeling the rise of telltale heat in his lower extremities at the delicious thought of the big beautiful ox naked and compliant. What he wouldn't give to have the minder bent over the low bar in his quarters, that tight well muscled ass exposed just for him.

Jupiter but it felt good to coil his fingers around his rapidly lengthening cock, while imagining the slick heat just beyond that tight puckered entrance. He just knew Donovan never allowed it, too much of a control junkie. Guy intended to fuck him raw tomorrow night. See if he liked how it felt to be taken unawares with no prep, despite the offer.

Guy's glazed eyes never left the vehicles hard top as he began palming swollen flesh with growing urgency, soft pants escaping dry parted lips. Bison's leader's trembling legs splayed seeking balance, allowing the coverlet to slowly slip from his shoulders as he fucked his hand in earnest, visions of Donovan groaning in pleasure through gritted teeth fuelling his ardour as he came falling to an ungainly heap upon the cold floor.

**~~~BMR~~~**

And he called this a hideout?

Donovan cut the engine, looking about him critically. No body heat from the sensors other than the six in the immediate building, one of which was upstairs - Guy and awake apparently with not much on by the looks of things. Apparently he hadn't taken care of things well enough by the free show he just got. Either that or the boy really had stamina - promising.

Sharp white teeth grinned in the darkness of the smoked mirrored vehicle, a thick palm suggestively laid in the bodyguard's lap.

He was upright again and heading for the hall, probably for that pathetic bathroom. Muscles were giving off the kind of heat that only registered with tension and or wakefulness. Guy was thinking again, very dangerous. Totally quixotic mind, first a hand job and then plotting in the blink of an eye. When did he actually sleep? No wonder he looked like shit so often.

Nah, he was here to see Sid. That body would wait for tomorrow night, when he had more than enough time to slowly torture the little shit and leave him nothing more than an exhausted bundle of quivering nerve endings.

Donovan chuckled to himself and holstered two of his favourites in preparation to get out and deal. Yeah, infinitely preferable, the thought of Guy nothing but shimmering sweat dewed skin, a delicious panting mess of sinew begging for more as he plundered his loosened hole a second time without the bullshit arguments that was always a precursor to sex with them. There was a reason he didn't have a pairing partner.

Kinda weird, he'd always had staying power with most of his bed-warmers, but this one was a rare little challenge. Even that first time, not optimal in the least had made him want more, but under different circumstances. The little shit was seriously sexy when he got hot and bothered and let go. Possibly one of the best fucks he'd had recently.

The minder adjusted his belt, becoming uncomfortably aware of where his thoughts were headed. Straight to Guy's make-shift bedroom at this rate, that cot did not stand a chance and he didn't much care for tile burns on his knees.

He smoothed his breathing, consciously putting the thoughts away of Guy naked and at his mercy. It was just going to be repeat performance of the first time if he didn't get himself under control and soon. That little bastard had a way of pushing every button he owned mentally with one result.

What the fuck was he doing here anyway, really? He should wait until morning to see Sid. Donovan looked up again, Guy had decided to fold his arms across his chest and give him the finger. He was daring him to come up and do something about it. The silvery glint of his personal com in the offending hand making the dubious offer, he could think of better uses for those long fingers.

Donovan snorted and reached for his com. This was so not a good idea after all.

He heard the click on the other end and soft breathing. "Soooo why're you here, Baldy, nothing at the club to your likin' tonight?"

"Such a tease standing there lookin all flushed in the moonlight. Bet I know what you've been doing. Can smell you from here, baby...makes me wanna do all kinds of things to that ripe little mouth of yours."

"Fuck you!"

"Yeah, I'm sure you were. What position? Was I any good?"

"When I ream you, you'll remember, Baldy."

"Come down here and sit on Donny's lap, Baby. I'll give you something to work off all that tension and fill the void."

Donovan earthy goad sent a desultory shiver through the chestnut haired mongrel body and straight to his shaft. He had to fight not to sail down the stairs like a good little dog at his master's beckon.

"As if, Donny Boy. You want it so bad. Come up. Let me break you in for tomorrow night. I won't go easy on you."

Donovan's eyes narrowed speculative, ignoring the barely contained rage in the hiss, Guy was breathing hard now, any minute he'd be touching himself again. The minder closed his own eyes tightly and wiped a paw-like hand across his face. This was insane. Why did this always happen? From zero to a hundred, he had better control than this. He could ignore the urge but not for much longer. Donovan knew himself well enough. It wouldn't take much more before he stormed that damn derelict building for a piece of moon-kissed ass.

"Keep it tight for me, baby. You know Donny likes to take his time. You're worth it."

"Stop calling me...BABY!"

Seriously if fed right and with due application of disciplined physical exercise, he'd be a prize little catch in bed and out. Definitely wouldn't have minded kinda stickin' with that body for a time at least. Even if the mouth went with it, then again that mouth had its perks too and somewhere in all that righteous indignation was a brain too.

"But it suits you, baby. I particularly like it when you get all pouty 'cause you have no fuckin' idea what you _really_ want from me, but fortunately I do. Night baby, sleep tight. Oh and speaking of tight, wear the leather does wonders for your ass."

This pissing contest could go on all night. Decision made, the Bodyguard gunned the engine. It was safer this way and anyway he needed sleep. Sid could wait 'til morning. He was asleep, no point waking him up now anyway. Kid could sleep through a firestorm and had on more than one occasion.

Guy blinked in disbelief as the connection was abruptly severed. He heard the engine roar to life. The chestnut haired mongrel cursed under his breath and watched with an unexpected wrench to his gut at the sight of the vehicle speeding away into the night.

Challenge met and denied...again.

What the hell did he mean by _he knew what he really wanted...since when_? It wasn't as if he even fuckin' knew what he wanted much less! Smug shit.

Angry, confused gray eyes rose to the ever present twin silent guardians of the night. They were at perigee tonight and shimmered like search lights through the thin dusty linen that served as curtain. Pale lost eyes watched the silver gray creep across the floor, over the mildewed armchair to the foot of the bed in silence.

Jupiter but the cold had returned to his limbs, eating away inside.

He looked to the cold, lumpy cot. So much for warm skin against his to stave off the night's chill. Spooning had its uses, even though the fucker liked to pet his hair all absent like before sleep. He'd have to remember to wash it. Kinda soothing though; maybe tomorrow night he'd indulge the pompous shit and let him.

Walking slowly to the cot, Guy folded long legs under him and covered up with the thin blanket that scratched his skin. He sniffed it and snorted, glad of the reprieve. It needed washing too. The last thing he needed was to see Mr Pristine stick up his nose at the idea of having that touch his perfectly inked skin.

Nah, it was better this way, Guy thought flopping onto the pillow and studying his naked feet beneath the moons glow absently. Donovan had gone back to where he belonged to sleep comfortably on a good bed, beneath clean sheets, maybe with uncomplicated company he preferred.

Guy's stomach gurgled, needed to see about more rations tomorrow. The kitchen would still be open for the bastard when he got in. Yeah, a place where he had position, where no one challenged him and he was respected simply for being the No.1 of Scarface.

The Boss never looked at anyone else with respect. Donovan was partner not pawn. Those same eyes when they passed to him still held venom, not quite what King Blondie felt but close enough for Guy to always have to watch his back and bat cautiously around the redhead.

Common denominator – Riki the Dark; they both loved him but in different ways. Where Iason simply wanted him dead on principle, Katze was awaiting the prime opportunity to dispense with him, preferably in the line of fire with a healthy dose of deniability for his actions.

Kinda funny that. Riki still protected him. He was the only reason, Guy knew, he remained alive.

Folding well muscled arms behind his head, Guy began to smirk. Donovan had seriously pissed off the redhead by taking up with him as occasional fuck toy. Also gave him another unexpected ace in the hole before the bodyguard's interests' inevitable wane.

He'd seen it tonight in Donovan's gaze both frightened and livid as he glared at Iason then back at Guy with a murderous glance of warning.

Interesting, not really sure to make of that, maybe that was why the exceptional blowjob that had turned his spine to gelatine. Maybe Donny Boy kinda liked him just a little more than just a convenient hole to poke when in need of relief, though that was acceptable too. It's not like he was bad at it, far from it. When he got himself going he was all about the touching verging on madness at times, clearly losing track of what he was suppose to be doing to his victim. Okay victim was the wrong word...more like partner in the care he took to please.

He'd felt it this second time tonight in that parting kiss that pretty much turned him inside out and left him standing there with what he knew was a dumbass look on his face. Donovan's smug smile and raised brow said it all as he sauntered off back into the darkness, leaving Guy breathless.

Fuck but he hated him, so damned confusing with the mixed messages. Guy touched his lips with a wistful grin remembering. They'd been so warm, soft and sticky. The brush of that tongue against his mouth sending shivers through him. It hadn't just been the taste of himself upon Donovan's lips, but the heat of that body in the sealing kiss and the grind of the bodyguard's hardened cock against his thigh in promise.

Sighing softly in the darkness, Guy's lids grew heavy, knowing he'd have let Donovan do whatever to him there and then, if another of those kisses were on offer.

Heavy limbed and unaccountably warm, Bison's leader curled onto his side suddenly relatively content.

If he listened intently enough to the still of the night, Guy could hear sudden movement below and the impromptu card came as Luke and Sid, pissed to raw eyeballs joked and egged each other on in that high pitched whisper particular to the drunk and well meaning. They'd all had a good night. Pay meant food, booze and sex. Two for three wasn't bad for a good night's work. The third would be rectified at the club tomorrow night for all, except Guy wasn't gonna have to pay for his.

Guy chuckled. Those two had been baiting each other for some time now, Sid and Luke. Wonder if Donovan knew his baby brother was getting some. Albeit irregularly but still. Somehow he knew Donny Boy would not be pleased.

Such a weird fuck, still didn't know what to make of his game plan, but if he wanted to play, sure as hell wasn't gonna turn him down, so long as he wasn't playing poke the android with that smug piece of shit, Admon.

Guy yawned and stretched languidly.

God he hated that fucker. All pretty and clean and perfect to the eye. There was something definitely off with him. Almost like he really wasn't here half the time, all he ever did was watch with those eerie fucked up eyes of his and waiting, but for what? She wasn't any better. Scary bitch for sure, reminded him too much of Iason.

Admon definitely had an agenda now that he gave it thought. He could see why the Boss favoured him too. It wasn't just his spectacular looks. Scarface kept everything close, even his enemies.

What did that say about him, who he kept at an intentional distance, most often giving him orders through Donovan, instead of directly; that distance probably fuelled by that one stupid move a week ago in propositioning the redhead?

What had possessed him, the Boss of all people? Especially when it was obvious, someone and an Elite no less, had already docked that port in more ways than one as the holographic capture validated.

Katze loathed Guy. He'd just made it worse.

Guy opened one gray eye and looked down at his right thigh and snorted. Looked so damn innocent now all flaccid and indifferent to the cool night air but a few hours back it had been all he could think about, getting that leg over. Well kinda, but not really.

"Never listenin' to you again! You'll be the death of me."

Okay so how stupid was he for talkin' to his dick like it was a child? It did kinda innocent though, sorta like yellin' at Sid when he'd eaten too many of the rations meant to last for a week.

Guy blinked into the darkness with furrowed brows, tossing the loosened wealth of chestnut hair to one side. At least it kept his neck warm, aside from being Donovan's favourite thing. Well second favourite thing next to slowly, torturously shoving that thick monster up his ass.

Baldy had more patience than Guy did at times, but it was always worth it when he started ramming for dear life, taking Guy's breath as his mind splintered from the pleasure of the jolt within his body when Donovan repeatedly hit that sweet spot as reward for his patience.

Felt so damn good the burn, the weight of him, heavy, pulsing, alive within his body and without, the softness of skin atop his and the careful way Donovan touched and kissed every available inch of skin he could find.

Donovan paid attention, even when he didn't have to.

Guy rose abruptly from the cot in sudden realization. Sooooooo not what he should be thinking about, period.

He marched to the door and swung it open, glad of the freezing air in the hallway as he headed for the bathroom to rectify the fourth hard on for the night. For once the cold frigid water was a benefit as he stood under it finding his mind returning to Sid and Donovan but with a difference.

Fuck they were nothing alike. He was just a willowy yes man prone to being ill. What the fuck was he keeping him around for but for the extras the Boss always saw fit to give, including medicine to quiet the voices in his head. What the fuck was that about? The last two times, the Boss had come himself. Was he ever going to tell Guy Sid was related to Donovan? Guess not, had to find that out for himself by accident.

Two minutes. That was the allotted time as leader in the prized shower. The others got a minute every few days. He couldn't waste it this way. He'd need it for tomorrow. Guy closed the lever after thirty seconds. It had worked.

God he hated Donovan! Riki had never made him this insane on any level. He'd better not have gone back to Admon, there would be Jupiter to pay if he did just to scratch that itch that belonged to him now.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Katze shifted his body beneath the warm sheets and away from the preternaturally warm Blondie who had flung an arm out in sleep across his chest with furrowed brows. The dealer's lips curled in a half smile as he slowly sat up and studied the fingers that drifted down the silken sheets towards his thigh before returning to the Elite's side innocently. Katze leaned forward slightly observing that extraordinarily handsome face silhouetted by the pale moons light from the skylight above. Rapid eye movement beneath lids, the breathing remained deep, definitely asleep but without the furrowed brows as before.

A full blown smile now touched the dealer's pale lips understanding the stray hand for what it was. Even in sleep, Raoul was checking his whereabouts subconsciously, possessive bastards Elites. He felt for Riki. They were all like this about perceived ownership. Like it or not, it was part of their makeup and at the moment, rather endearing.

Still he needed a smoke and the privacy of the silence. Pale amber studied the closed balcony doors. He sniffed. Fuck but the room smelt like what this place was... a whore house, appealingly erotic and musky during, but definitely not after.

The room needed airing. He couldn't, wouldn't let Kato face this in the morning. Anyway he really did need that smoke to clear his mind. A lot had gone on tonight. He still had a promise or two to keep for morning, none of which had to do with the delectable being laying here dead to the world or his Excellency.

That soft smile took on a lascivious bent in smug reflection. Oh yeah, he'd laid his Blondie good and proper tonight as his back was currently reminding him in no uncertain terms. Katze edged off the bed in slow increments ever conscious of the sleeping form next to him as he carefully retrieved his robe from the foot of the bed.

Maybe adding a little weight training with Donovan was in order considering. His minder was always happy for another victim to torture in the gym. He'd see about arranging things in a day or so.

Sliding long tired limbs through the soft cool silk was heavenly, Katze thought turning to regard the still sleeping Blondie as he tied the sash of his robe with a pensive expression. Breathing still looked to be even but something in the face had changed, maybe it was the angle now that he had arisen. No eye movement at all but the jaw had markedly tensed as if listening for something.

A suspicious auburn brow arched a fraction but the mongrel said nothing, selecting to focus instead on his purposefully silently footfalls towards the small rear balcony. He stopped by the end table to its side and carefully withdrew a slim revolver, holding his breath as he cocked it before opening the doors.

It was the unexpected softness of the air not the dazzling shafts of moonlight that caught the dealer's attention first. He blinked accustoming his eyes to the brightness of the twins. They were in perigee tonight, no longer blunted by the atmosphere in their nearness nor that of the heavy bulletproof drapery.

Pocketing the gun, Katze sighed and stepped out into the cool night air inhaling deeply. He heard the unified hiss and slide of trained lasers. Good. The usual perfunctory nod to the three guards below and then the two above as a matter of course, set rigid shoulders at relative ease.

Looking down at the small table and chair, the dealer smiled and sat, crossing his legs with a tired sleepy groan. Kato had his uses. He forgot nothing. There they were his life savers, _Black Nocturnes_ and a ready light. All that was missing was a dark, rich full bodied brew to clear his fogged brain for the day ahead.

"I see it will be necessary to actively discourage Kato's enabling of this destructive habit of yours, Katze. I will have need of your lung capacity in future. Age is not kind to the unenhanced of the humanoid species, particularly in matters of endurance."

The dealer snickered softly before pointedly blowing gossamer tendrils of smoke absently into the night, admiring their ebb and visual flow into nothingness.

Katze never bothered to turn and acknowledge the resonant baritone that came from the doorway, instead the dealer answered softly.

"Enjoy the now, Sir Am. It's what we have. Don't complicate things."

Katze tensed, anticipating some manner of rebuke for his impudence.

The retort came unexpectedly in the form of long, hot fingers gliding in a mesmerizing fashion over his shoulders, kneading them sporadically. Katze's limbs slackened in pleasure, leaning heavily back into the welcomed touch.

"Nice."

Closing his eyes, Katze moaned his appreciation, extending his own hand to caress the smooth skinned forearm beneath the pads of his fingers in the silent communion shared.

"I simply wish to keep you sound, Katze. You are quite right. Tomorrow is promised to no one, not even a Blondie who might soon find himself in disfavour."

Katze's hand stilled momentarily caught by the words spoken, woefully aware of the tension within the broad, elegant hands that still massaged his shoulders more slowly now. The dealer lifted the hand to his lips, "Not on my watch, Sir Am, I won't allow that. Not because of me."

"I am being summoned Katze. You cannot help me with this. In fact, you must stay out of it, your turn to follow my lead."

"Knowledge is power, Sir Am of course I will help if I can. Jupiter is curious."

"Do you mean about the legend or what you keep so well hidden?"

The dealer stiffened markedly for the first time turning to face the entity that regarded him knowingly. For a moment words failed the redhead as he looked up into now pale green moon-kissed eyes and wondered. That truly exquisite countenance framed by a wealth of tousled gold and lit to infinite perfection by the moons' light, held a wealth of feeling and demanded trust, just for a moment before smoothing into a glacier like hardness.

He already knew what would come next. The one thing he had tried to avoid, his fall from stolen grace.

"Yes Katze, Kato has shown me your quite substantial library. Now tell me where you fit and what is it you truly hide about yourself. It is the only way I can continue to protect you. I've always found it curious as to why I never found the records of your birth. At first I dismissed the anomaly and assumed the usual bureaucratic incompetence Ceres' is infamous for held sway."

Long fingers lifted the mongrel's chin, gently stroking over the scarred cheek. "Now, I begin to believe otherwise. Could this charade of yours be the reason for your covert visits to Guardian? Why you fell from grace with Iason all those years ago? Who are you, Katze of Ceres? Tell me what you hide."

**~~~BMR~~~**

She finally understood why Admon enjoyed this task. Smoothing, carding, combing with bare fingers before brushing the damp tresses to an inhuman sheen that flowed like a river over broad shoulders before the final braiding that marked the end of his toilette.

At times unruly, this crown of molten embers that crowned the Ruby's head defined him in its fluidity and grace, but there was an unnatural edge to the waves of spun silk. A poisonous hue not only of virulent crimson, but tinged with sulphuric highlights that deepened its light.

Attending it and its equally quixotic owner had been Admon's pleasure. A task he once took pride in. It was his sister's duty now.

Ajna saw it as inefficient but recognized the shift in mood of the Elite towards equanimity while being groomed. He was far less inclined to snap and spit and spark with vituperations as he was massaged into passivity, almost somnambulistic in his musings with the repetitive pressure of brush and hand.

Sir Niiro was closer to self then. Prone to pleasantries and abstract thoughts sometimes even whimsical in his sharing of unlike most of his brethren, who chose to keep a modicum of distance between themselves and those who served the Chosen of Jupiter.

"He chose him, a mongrel. I still do not understand, Ajna. Perhaps your observations can shed some light. It is your forte after all."

She bent forward and retrieved the comb from the dressing stand, weighing her words, keen dark ruby eyes literally studying the subtle lights of the Elite's aura for what they were. He was passive in this moment, but that very same passivity could easily change within a credits notice.

Truth well founded but circumspect would do. It would have been the way Admon chose. She had to blank her expression briefly as her brother's quiet resonance touched her mind.

'_Be the mirror, nothing more, nothing less;_ w_e still need him_.'

'_Agreed. Do you still have it?'_

'_Of course, in a manner of speaking; It continues to call.'_

'_I know. Have you deciphered it yet?'_

'_No. Be cautious, he attends.'_

"Ajna? Do stop conversing with your brother. It is rather impolite and is giving me a headache. Your 'accents' for want of better words, are not conducive to an Elite's orderly mind what with the flitting back and forth of imagery in lieu of speech, entire thoughts unfinished; most disconcerting for the enhanced biomechanical brain, unused to such illogical leaps."

"They are not illogical to us, Sir Niiro, but I digress and we do apologize."

"Excellent. Now, say good night to him. He has work to do and a full report to give in the morning. Answer my question pertaining to that failed mass of recombinant DNA that is the offspring of the First One."

"The challenge of his intellect, Sir Niiro along with his atypical physicality as mongrel would spark an interest. Their respective lineage, however distant, would also be a calling card, I should think."

Ajna parted three thick ropes composed of soft vermillion strands and began the nightly weaving in silence.

"But Raoul is unaware of these facts. Well consciously anyway. I have never given him sufficient information to spark said interest you speak of, a touch of serendipity perhaps or the mark of another hand determined to see me fail?"

The Karinese's eyes narrowed briefly as she contemplated the thick braid being wound from the base of the Elite's neck. This was the best part watching the creation of a perfect set of rows, all equidistant in their waving twine, thinning by increments as it wended its way down the long, powerful back to coccyx.

"Jupiter would not invest in a perceived mongrel, Master. They are the thrash of a long forgotten species that has seen its best promise reached millennia ago."

Sir Niiro regarded Ajna in the mirror for a fraction of a second with pursed lips as his eyes studied the subtle curves beneath the sheer robe. "Astute as always, Ajna, you will take rest with me tonight. I would find it pleasing."

'_They were so predictable;_ _One of the major flaws that would always remain in their makeup despite Jupiter's best efforts to root out so base an instinctual humanoid drive. An aspect never countenanced by the AI. Yes, very reflective of the AI's inability to perceive the core of the species it attempted to dominate. Jupiter was simply incapable of evolving, unlike its creations._'

Ajna sighed and contemplated the brush's handle resting in her lap before placing it on the varnished surface of the table, marking closure to the nightly ritual.

Where did this overriding need to conquer the flesh of another because of emotions displaced and unrequited come from. So sad really, never to be sated no matter how faithfully pursued in the form of another, entirely missing the point other than the enjoyment of it.

Still, he was exceptional at pleasuring though, when in the mood. It had been weeks. A short sensual respite would be appreciated before slumber. She too was humanoid, but accepted this aspect of her nature and took pleasure in it.

"Of course, Sir Niiro, I live to serve you."

A warm hand lifted to the porcelain face regarding him implacably in the mirror. He caressed her cheek meditatively.

"And serve you will, my dear. You are quite finished here. Disrobe and await further instructions. I wish to observe you beneath the pale moons light for inspiration."

Ajna bowed, elegantly reversing so as not to give her back to her Master in disrespect as he rose and headed for the window.

He could be tiresome at times but that lingering gaze held promise. She never failed to reach her peak beneath his perfect form. She would share this night. It was the least she could do for the unrequited twin, giving final closure.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Their games never changed really Admon noted seated atop his bed with closed lids, long limbs in lotus.

Neither flawless form inspired lust in the android, it never did but something felt different tonight in her approach and the demands of the Elite, who chose to observe. He was different.

Admon's thoughts shifted as he studied the single beam he allowed to enter through the heavy curtains that shrouded his window. Space for them to exchange forms in mind would be needed. They had neither practiced this act of deception for several years now. It would require unerring focus on both their parts. Ajna was always quicker on the draw in this ability to inveigle the transition as she pleasured herself in full view of her Master, who was still seeking inspiration.

Both Admon and she knew, though her form was exceptionally pleasing, a little extra effort would be involved to pique his interest beyond the rapidity of his breath and the feral movement of amber eyes that followed the wet fingers plunging between the slick lips of her vagina.

Admon chuckled to himself, hearing her thoughts, somewhat pejorative in tone as she scanned and predicted Niiro's eye movements, tracking their real destination, pink puckered flesh. He stalked the bottom of the bed, awaiting his moment to strike as he lubricated three fingers in anticipation.

'_He is ready, Admon_.'

If he only knew, Admon mused contentedly adrift in a sea of light, seeing his former Master through his sister's eyes though she remained in anticipatory oestrus at their coupling her long curvy limbs opened fully in acceptance, spreading herself wider with the splayed fingers of one hand while continuing to stroke the engorged nub of her clit with rhythmic urgency.

It was now or never, she thought drifting down the channel of light that surrounded her, acknowledging the familiar flash of light that sped past her.

She closed her eyes then and patted the silken head between her legs that displaced her slicked fingers with a ravenous mouth intent on suckling. This was the delectable reward for enticement. The perfect finish as she bucked her hips in wanton abandon with each stroke of dexterous tongue prodding and probing her core without cessation.

Ajna gave over to Admon in that moment, a gift of full sentience in the act as they exchanged forms. She would rest for a time in her own sacred space between worlds and simply observe the two in coitus, hoping against hope that Admon would see for himself, the gift bestowed and in it, his final freedom.

The strawberry blonde quivered, his own limbs surrendering to the feel of those strong hands against his skin finally. Still, something, just something was different. Sir Niiro's aura had changed markedly.

So carefully, so agilely the body beneath the Ruby was flipped onto its stomach.

Admon's eyes flew open in sudden realization as his hips were raised and long fingers probed the heat of his body with growing urgency.

"That is it, my dear. Just relax and allowing me the pleasure of conquest, Admon. This is your dream after all. You will suffice."

Sir Niiro had lied. He was more than capable of understanding their private language and the one ability thought hidden had been found. How long had the Ruby known?

His breath heavy now against Admon's neck as he softly keening his pleasure as the tight ring of muscles slowly surrendered to the force and breadth of his hot pulsing girth.

"Oooooooooh Yeees... so lovely, Admon. You have been broken in nicely too, I see. Just think, Admon. You have been able to serve two Masters this day, my dear."

"But...I ...you...wanted..."

"NEVER..." Niiro thrust his hips forward with a punishing stroke of cock into the tight orifice, almost insensate with delight as the form quivered beneath him in fear.

"EVER..."

The lancing pain was excruciating as the Elite slammed his substantial shaft deep into the android's body unexpectedly, causing the Karinese to stiffen almost severing the dual bond shared between kin.

"EVER..."

Sir Niiro bit into Ajna's shoulder blade harshly, sending shooting pains through Admon's own while levering her hips upwards and onto his own distended flesh once more, exulting in the tight squeeze and discomforted shiver of limbs beneath him. His point had been made, deliciously so.

"AGAIN... I am not prey! Remember that, Ad Karin 003," Niiro hissed through gritted teeth into the Karinese's ear, thrusting his pelvis forward with each word of censure.

"Yes, Master...I won't forget."

"Excellent," Niiro nuzzled the Ajna's lobe, adjusting the taut limbs beneath him. He was so close, as was the body beneath his despite the brutality exacted upon the trembling form, Admon's pheromones did not lie. "Shall we continue, Admon?"

Aaahhh that delectable tight squeeze of acceptance, such an amenable creature really, the Ruby mused, well satisfied by the soft groans of appreciation and the tentative encouraging undulations beneath him, signalling interest.

He continued to drive his cock vindictively into the delicious heat of his creation's body somewhat disquieted by a change he could not give voice to. Raoul, the source of the need that usually fuelled his lusty sojourns, was missing from his imaginings.

Both Admon and Ajna smiled secretively. The connection had truly been severed, despite the copiousness of his dissatisfying release.

**~~~BMR~~~**

From his current vantage upon mussed sheets Raoul studied the attractively broad back of his mongrel, now showered and dressed to begin his day at this ridiculous hour. He had no such plans at the moment since the call had vanished for some inexplicable reason.

When the redhead turned and peered into the darkness of the bedroom, his countenance bore the usual stoic frigidity that gave away nothing of his thoughts.

Raoul's keen eyes knew full well, Katze could not read his own expression from where he lay and yet, there was reserve in that perfectly imperfect face, which he could now read as genuine fear, the slim volume held against his chest like a shield upon his approach.

The tentativeness of the dealer's steps spoke volumes. There was fear in his steps as each quiet footfall brought him closer to his destiny. Raoul himself shivered with the portent of his gaze.

Carefully seating himself next to the robed Elite, Katze sighed, long elegant fingers, so fragile in make caressing the journal before placing it on the Elite's covered lap.

"Here. Read for yourself while I'm away. It's a hand inscribed copy of the ninety-seventh journal documenting the crew's life, Sir Am. We have no idea which of the First Ones descendants wrote it. It implies many things you as an Elite, the pinnacle of Jupiter's biomechanical evolution might not care to know about _**our**_ origins."

Raoul's brows furrowed as he took up the thin leather bound book.

"Our origins, you mean the Elite of Amoi, Katze?"

The dealer shook his head and strove to even his breathing. This wasn't going to be easy. "No, Sir Am. The children used in your species development. Your kind is based on the genome of what was perceived as favourable traits from the First Ones descendants."

A pale brow lifted in shock. "This is nothing but legend, Katze. A tale told repeatedly with divergent and rather colourful conjecture based solely on how much the teller imbibed."

The dealer furrowed his brows, placing long fingers over his temples and began to massage. This was so not a good idea. Raoul would never be predisposed to understand, however well meaning his original curiosity. Why did he think this knowledge would divert the call that had grown weaker in the last hour.

Silence, Katze finally noticed the silence.

Raoul had become unaccountably quiet as he regarded the volume's cover before tossing it onto the adjoining pillow with finality; it had flipped with the indignant toss onto its back cover.

"That would imply the Abyss came back and settled here once terra-forming had been completed, utterly nonsensical, Katze. Especially as the few records that do exist very much imply they were lost in an ionic storm and undoubtedly perished. There are no such records to validate this fanciful claim. I would be privy to such knowledge."

Turning slowly on the bedding Katze studied the supercilious quirk of brow and shook his head once more. "Would you really, Sir Am? You don't believe Jupiter has secrets or an agenda?"

Raoul reached for the long fingered hand and took it in his warming the fine boned, ice cold fingers. "Yes Katze. I would know. What you suggest is impossible and would require the collusion of my maker. This is simply not acceptable."

The dealer's lips narrowed. "Whatever, Raoul," Katze stood and tried to extricate his fingers from the Blondie's. Slowly, the Elite released his grasp as amber eyes narrowed in annoyance. "All I know is something altered their trajectory and they were forced back to one of two moon bases where they were stranded, becoming prisoners of their own quest, unable to leave. These _**are**_ their journals, Raoul. That is not a lie."

Dark green eyes began to slowly widen noting for the first time, the embossed artistic rendering of the double helix on the back cover awash in the pale moons light.

"Impossible...how could, but he never..." Raoul stuttered, recoiling visibly from the bound parchment.

Katze followed the Elite's gaze. Oh the irony. He hadn't looked at the book in years. No wonder the fascination with Admon's brand. No wonder it looked familiar, as was his reaction to the box upon opening and flashes of implanted memory took hold. It was never Sir Niiro's family crest by rights.

It was his.

**Author's Note**

*EVIL GRIN*. Let me know. Hope you enjoyed.

**EP**


	33. Chapter 32

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **32**

**Reviews are fuel.**

**_"You are all a lost generation."  
_**

Epigraph, _The Sun Also Rises_, Ernest Hemingway

**Chapter 32** of ? – The Sun Also Rises (Post OVA)

Nothing but muscular sheen, a fine specimen of masculinity aglow with rivulets of sweat coursing, caressing a broad inked back; Amber eyes watched in open fascination the flow of droplets over the lean resilient abdomen and trim flanks.

Katze's keen analytical gaze narrowed as he tore his mind's eye away from the attractive sight of brawn in the peak of condition and that truly superior ass. No, he chose instead to admire every graceful flex and bend of spine into wholly unnatural positions that only served to emphasize this mongrel's perfection that should not have been. The loin cloth had been a later addition, requested by his Boss. Donovan did not hold with modesty on personal time. He had worked hard for that body and was not opposed to appreciative glances, even from his own men.

'_Vain bastard just like the other ten generations of his line before him, the children of Memnon, but loyal to the death and then some_.'

The black market dealer chuckled and sat upon the stool set aside behind the force wall with a meditative set to his sharp jaw line. Promise one about to be kept. He absently fingered the small vile within his trouser pocket. It was growing more costly with each transaction, but well worth it for the minder's peace of mind. He asked so little.

As long as the dealer remained behind the force wall, he was protected from the intense heat that Donovan craved in this morning workout which he insisted kept him whole in mind, body and spirit. He had tried to entice Katze to share the early morning ritual.

Katze shook his head, remembering the first time the offer had been made. No way in hell was he ever going to partake of this, way too much sweating for his liking. An hour of calisthenics would follow, tomorrow weight training in lieu and so the routine went on day in and day out, all in silence and all before his men came in for their hour and a half of torturous training, the bodyguard insisted upon.

Donovan was disciplined about his physicality. He preferred privacy for his own rather intense workout. Ever flexible he turned with a ready smile and quirk of dark brow in question at the dark clad figure hunched against the wall, subconsciously recoiling from the somewhat steamy room before him. Such a pernickety creature was his boss about his person, except when it came to that Elite, if the surreptitious looks they exchanged were anything to go by. Donovan had no doubts there was a great deal of sweating going on between those two behind closed doors.

"Boss?"

"Keep going." Katze inclined his head and pointed to the railing where the vile had been placed in full view. "Your brother's getting expensive. We'll have to find a new supplier soon and take this one out."

The affable smile faded replaced by the usual iron jaw line and cool surmise in now expressionless iridescent blue eyes as he nodded, making a mental check to add the termination of a questionable contact to his schedule.

Katze read his expression effortlessly. This was his call.

"He was pissing me off anyway, I'll do it." Katze volunteered softly, feeling for his package of smokes. "He's outlived his usefulness and has been double dipping with respect to our recreational narcotics run off world. Good time to make an example of him. Just need you there for backup, just in case."

Donovan assumed what he called a lotus position with the same stolid expression and maintained the cool citrine gaze for a moment longer than was wise before nodding.

"No, Boss, I'll do it. This'd be the third trafficker in as many months. Don't need anyone lookin' too closely as to timing and what you get up to. Just need to drop it off first, if that's okay?"

"Noooooooooo, I'll drop 'em off. Don't want you and Guy tangling this morning. You'll just get side tracked by your dick again."

The minder's lips thinned in irritation but he chose not to respond, preferring to slowly rotate his neck at a one hundred and eighty degree angle then back again, pausing in thought.

"You don't have to, you know? That's what I'm here for. It's my job to protect you and your interests. That will always come first, Boss."

"Til death do us part..." Katze murmured quietly.

The smile returned briefly to Donovan's face. "Yeah...somethin' like that. Not so much on the death crap, though. My cock's got a hot date tonight."

Katze's own jaw grew rigid as he watched Donovan gracefully unfold exceptionally long limbs and stand to his full formidable height. In the humorous choice of phrasing there had been an undeniable challenge to his ultimate authority, "Why Guy, Donovan? It's not as if you can't pick and choose what and whom you fuck."

Very slowly the guard turned fully towards his boss and snatched the dark towel conveniently hung from the ring on the wall and vigorously wiped excess sweat and moisture from his skin in preparation for the shift in temperature about to happen in the room based on the pre-set timer. It would not do for his muscles to get frigid with the sudden normalizing of the air flow.

"No disrespect intended. I know you hate him, Red and I know you are justified in your feelings and why, but this is my personal shit."

"I sense another _but_ coming, am I right?"Katze smiled flatly inhaling his chosen poison meditatively, simply awaiting the inevitable rejoinder.

Donovan shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. I enjoy him, despite his ways. He's a good lay. Is that a good enough answer? Cause it'll have to do, Boss Man. I can't answer why you are in love with a Blondie, now can I? They've destroyed us. Not just one fellow mongrel in the heat of madness. I will never approve of what Guy did, but I kinda understand it. We're their slaves and to have his former pairing partner taken, stolen like that sent him over the edge."

Katze's jaw worked in anger, listening to the tired rationale.

"Explain that one, Boss and yet you, you of all people gladly spread for one of them instead of one of your own?"

The dealer flinched at the accusation. This entire conversation was getting way too personal.

"Touché, Donovan. I advise you to stop."

Donovan pursed his lips and stared at the one individual he trusted with his life, still silently requesting an answer to what had been bugging him for weeks now.

"You think it's easy? You think I want to respond to his touch? I don't, but I do."

"There's your answer, Boss. I fucked him as punishment and turns out, I'm the one being punished by the little shit. I want him. I need him. Near as I can figure, we're both kinda fucked right about now. I'm not the only one being lead around by his cock."

They stared at each other for a seeming eternity. Katze's shoulders slumped visibly. No point denying it, Donovan had his number and he, his.

He looked exceedingly tired to Donovan's protective eyes. "You okay, Boss?"

Katze shrugged and sat back with splayed limbs. "Yeah, I guess. I'm testing the waters with him. What he chooses to do with the information I gave him this morning will determine my next move."

Donovan shivered. "What information..."

"Nothing that need concern you. Just know if Guy gets in my way, I'll take him out, Donovan. You'll have nothing to say about it. Is that understood? Not bargaining with you on this one."

The statement hung heavily between them. They were at a crossroads. Donovan averted his own intently cold, determined gaze.

Katze recognized the shift in demeanour for what it was. "Don't make this personal Donovan. I'm asking you. No, I'm begging you, actually. Please. I need you. I trust you. I don't trust him, Donny and neither should you. You'll lose everything you've fought for and protected. He's a selfish psychotic little shit."

_No calisthenics today?_ Katze mused with furrowed brows, watching for any signs of contrition in the stiff set of Donovan's back as he turned away from him and keyed the temperature gauge pad imbedded in the wall.

The opposing wall retracted revealing a variety of thin foils and heavier lethal hand-to-hand weaponry meant for practice.

"Not fair, Boss, not fair at all." Donovan murmured retrieving a particularly fine silver tipped blade and placing it at his own feet ritualistically before staring back into pale citrine eyes. "Shall we? This is usually how we settle these things?"

The cool air now circling them both caused gooseflesh to rise up and down the dealer's spine as the air about them equalized and the temperature gauged force field evaporated.

Katze rose somewhat unnerved by the challenge posed, but he respected the bodyguard's pride. This was his sanctum, his rules.

Donovan's regarded the elegantly clad, sparse framed individual dressed in a soft silk shirt with feigned amusement. "You're kinda overdressed for this, Boss."

The slow smile was menacing that graced the black market dealer's face as he quickly removed the soft material over his head and loosened his belt's buckle in readiness. "Better?"

Snorting softly, Donovan inclined his head, growing weary of the penetrating gaze. It was almost as if the Boss was looking through him.

"That scar healed up real good too, didn't it?" Katze retorted, selecting his own foil before pointing the thin, flexible metal tip at the one and only mark on the otherwise perfect torso, hidden by the red ink of the serpent's tongue.

Snickering softly, Donovan bowed.

"I win. No questions asked. I'll be allowed to handle Guy in my own way. You win, I still get a night with him and then we call it quits for business reasons. Either way, I get laid tonight? Acceptable?"

Katze inclined his head as he padded to the centre of the room, guardedly watching as Donovan retrieved his weapon from the floor.

Donovan pointed down. "Shoes?"

As requested, the dealer toed them off, setting them aside neatly and blinked while long fingers

trousered the safety tip of the foil chosen from the open display case.

They slowly circled one another in preparation to strike. Both men studied each other's implacable gaze, determined to find the point of decision or indecision within their opponent's pallid eyes.

"Correction, _when_ I win, you get laid. Enjoy his body, Donovan, but accept his end is inevitable and it will be at my hands. You have nothing to say about it."

"En Garde!" Donovan snarled, cutting off the redhead's final words.

This duel had higher stakes both knew and it tempered their need to strike, but strike they would, each with a surety in their point of view.

**~~~BMR~~~**

He replaced the cup in the saucer with a noncommittal sniff.

Raoul huffed once again inspecting his fresh gloves, finding them moderately wanting in fit but otherwise serviceable. Kato smiled down at the seated Elite, who had taken up residence in Katze's office for want of something better to do while he awaited the mongrel's return.

The wretched creature had simply left him with the damn journal and made little mention as to where he was going when Kato made his unwanted presence felt in the bedroom, beaming in that senile manner he affected when regarding the Elite.

Breakfast was served with all due decorum. There was thankful silence as he bathed and the pestiferous little male went about sorting the bedroom. The silence was quickly short-lived however as much was made with interminable pleasant discourse while seeing to the Elite's dress.

Kato was enjoying this, taking great pains to brush honey gold silk to a flattering sheen; acceptable. Removing lint from his various freshly cleaned garments, standing back every so often to take a gander at the Elite's general magnificence; equally acceptable in an irritating way.

So efficient and unctuously pleasant, given to a constant barrage of useless prattle, which of course was ignored, a most annoying little being incapable of understanding when he was being put in his place.

Raoul sighed and adjusted his fresh, resplendent tunic of the most delightful shade of verdant green, quite the feat on such short notice.

Most annoying indeed, Raoul huffed silently to himself. No matter what he did, Kato's less than edifying treatise about the morning itinerary and the Syndicate limo awaiting the Elite downstairs, continued.

That would be the third time he had made mention of the vehicle in passing.

Too bad, he intended to await Katze's return. No amount of hints was going to change his mind.

Raoul pursed full lips and narrowed his gaze at the overly familiar little being with an arm full of soiled bed linen. "Are you congenitally averse to silence? Isn't it a bit early to be blathering on ad nauseum about such inane trivia? Men have been shot for less, Kato."

Oh dear Jupiter, there was that idiotic beneficent smile again, as though he were a parent looking down at a beloved, recalcitrant child. If he dared pat his head patiently, he was for it.

"Forgive me, Sir Am. I so rarely have anyone of your stature to indulge and attend."

Pale green eyes narrowed. "Are you implying I am high maintenance, Kato?"

"Not at all, Sir Am, I shall be quiet now."

The little man continued to beam at the Blondie. Raoul heard the soft intake of breath as the smile faltered a touch as the little man shifted emotional gears, suddenly looking suitably apologetic.

"I do feel impelled however, Sir Am, to remind you that your limousine is still waiting downstairs and is blocking deliveries for the club. Mr. Katze does not hold with paying the couriers double time. It is currently causing a minor stir at street level."

The Elite ignored the subtlety of censure employed - again.

Of course he was fully aware. It had been the last thing Katze had done before leaving so abruptly in the middle of a rather important conversation. It was neither here nor there how long the chauffeur would be forced to wait, or what the controlling little male lost in his morning profits. It would serve him right. There simply had to be ground rules and he intended to set them.

"If you will, excuse me, Sir Am. I must see to my morning duties, since you have no further need of me? Donovan's breakfast must be prepared before their morning's outing."

Sharp green eyes became glacial at the mention of the bodyguard's given name. The Elite rose to his full impressive height and rounded the desk. "_Their?_"

Kato became furtive, dark gimlet eyes averted with a nervous little smile. "Yes, Mr. Katze and Donovan, Sir Am. They have business to conduct before Mr. Katze debriefs his Excellency about the Auction."

Striding across the room with purpose, Raoul glowered down his patrician nose at the little old man, who raised the sheets that much higher, instinctively seeking a veil of protection with the rumpled, stained silk.

The Elite stepped back, moderately annoyed at his own instinctive retreat. He didn't need the damned little mongrel having a heart attack. That was the only reason he put another steps distance between them, noting the sudden calm that came over the wrinkled face.

"So he is still within these walls?"

Nervously Kato began to stutter. "Ye-esss, but he would not appreciate being disturbed at the moment Sir Am."

A thick, silken lock was flicked irritably over a broad shoulder by an elegantly gloved hand, as always to no avail, since it settled once more over an irritated green orb.

"_Really_...is that so? Take me to him now, Kato!" Raoul hissed, sounding a good deal more petulant than he cared to admit.

Some ground rules were going to be set, effective immediately; the utter temerity of his mongrel and here he had given Katze the benefit of the doubt, assuming he was attending to something relevant when in fact, the man was gossiping with that overgrown, self important barbarian he called a minder.

As it was they spent far too much time with one another, practically finishing each other's sentences. That too would have to change.

Donovan inexplicably irritated the Elite. He was far too tall, far too self possessed and ridiculously territorial when it came to his charge. Given sufficient time, this could prove problematic, unless sorted immediately. Though he loathed to give it credence, Donovan had something Admon did not, Katze's trust.

Marching to the port with purposeful strides Raoul abruptly stopped and turned to glare at the manservant. "Drop those," he pointed dispassionately at the soiled sheets, "and retrieve the journal at bedside. I will have need of it this day."

Kato sighed. "Yes, Sir Am."

The dealer would not be pleased with this change to the morning routine.

**~~~BMR~~~**

That expert flick of a thick wrist and the tinny clank of rapiers were quickly followed by a guttural hiss as Katze's wrist was snapped back painfully in defeat. The smaller man charged the other unexpectedly, felling him with his momentum.

Fuck. He should have expected this. Red didn't take well to losing at anything. The minder saw raw anger in those sharp yellow eyes.

Donovan knew this mood. He'd seen it before, this coiled rage born of constant suppression. Strong paw-like hands grasped tightly to the wrists above him, allowing the other to straddle him with heaving breaths of frustration. He'd just hold him until it wore off. It usually did and fairly quickly too.

"Enough, Boss. This isn't a street fight. It's not to the death."

"The fuck it isn't!" Katze snarled in impotent frustration.

Raoul blinked in consternation, amazed at the expression on Katze's face. It was feral, lethal even yet the object of his angry bark appeared calm and more worried about damaging the lithe being. It was obvious to Raoul's perceptive eyes that Donovan was merely gauging the threat level he saw in those amber, predatory eyes glaring back down at him. The Elite began to grind his teeth at the too gentle lowering of the hands that fought impotently to be free from his vice-like grip.

"Let go of me!"

"No. Not until you calm the hell down, Boss."

Donovan carefully rolled atop the dealer, stilling his frenetic bodily movements with his substantially larger form.

"Get off me, Donovan!"

"No!"

Red.

Raoul saw red. There was nothing sexual in the stance taken per say, but it irked nonetheless to see his mongrel prone beneath another male of his own kind and one in particular that was already far too familiar and possessive. The palpable silence shared as they glared at each other was almost intimate.

No, he didn't much care for this current impasse at all not to mention there was still that matter of the bump at the base of his cranium, bestowed by the erstwhile bodyguard, currently settled over his mongrel as if he had the right, as if he had done this before. They were friends to be sure, but something just something in the guard's body bespoke a dormant attraction neither gave conscious thought to.

Raoul's lips curled maliciously as he strode into the room, lifting the guard in one fell swoop and tossing him effortlessly against the opposing cement wall with a satisfying thud.

Such a lovely sound that gasp of pain before unconsciousness; quite a shame nothing was broken, but there would be substantial bruising, most satisfactory.

Oh dear, his glove had torn. Still, it was worth the look on his mongrel's face as he proffered his hand to him in a courtly manner and pulled him to his feet and against his chest.

Raoul leaned forward and sniffed Katze's neck, their cheeks touching lightly in the exchange. The mongrel shivered at the contact; also pleasing. His mongrel's sweat was intoxicating. The urge to nip the pulsing vein at his throat was maddening as was the feel of resilient flanks beneath his gloved hands.

Katze was livid, but that would soon be put to rights once away from prying eyes. Regardless of affections held, there were rules.

"Kato, see to him." Raoul ordered breathlessly, dragging Katze behind him brooking no argument straight up the stairs and back to the office, where he intended to quell this sudden show of feral disobedience in the time honoured way.

Wisely, the object of his erotic musings followed in silence while grinding his teeth. Some ground rules were going to be set this day, come hell or high water Katze thought, even while being pinned bodily against the closed port by Raoul.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Kato sighed and kneeled next to Donovan's unconscious form. He knew this would happen. Why had he opened his mouth? Perhaps giving them a few minutes alone to clear the air would suffice. No doubt, new sheets would be required, if they managed to get that far. All that sniffing was almost primal.

Right now though he had the more bothersome task of awakening the sleeping giant and keeping him calm, while his Master and his lover worked through the testosterone haze that rendered both fools when it came to understanding one another; the real challenge they faced was that both were alpha, one by nature and the other by design.

The manservant tapped Donovan's cheek with growing ferocity. Why oh why had he chosen to roll over onto Master Katze, that is what had set the Elite off unknowingly. He had heard the sharp intake of breath and saw within a blink of an eye the inevitable outcome of the wrestling move.

"Wwwhaaaaaaaaa...Kato?" Donovan rasped, shaking his head and blinking, his formerly bleary expression growing cold and menacing. "I'm going to fuckin' kill'm," the guard rose unsteadily to his feet, bracing against the wall.

"Donovan! You will do no such thing! Respect his choice. We all have to. He knows what he's doing. Trust him."

"No he doesn't. He's invited a wolf in our midst, Kato."

**~~~BMR~~~**

Gloves had quickly been dispensed with, Katze noted absently as he was thrust hard against the wall of his office. He didn't appreciate the personal grope being conducted at the moment or the grinding thrusts against his taut thigh.

"What the hell, are you doing, Raoul?" Katze hissed through gritted teeth, glaring up at the Elite with furious eyes. Raoul's cognitive processes were elsewhere at the moment that was self evident in the distant sleepy gaze levelled at him before nuzzling his neck with a soft sigh.

"Intoxicating..."

The Elite was sucking savagely now at the vein at base of his throat. Katze began to pant despite being livid, his traitorous limbs cleaving to Raoul's form as he raised his neck, inviting the mauling of his flesh with tight shut eyes.

"Touch me. Please touch me, Katze." Raoul whispered against his throat, relinquishing his grasp of a fragile wrist and forcing the hand in question between his legs with a satisfied groan as long fingers did his bidding caressing the outline of his hot, straining erection.

Much better, Raoul thought in a lustful haze, inhaling deeply of the mongrel's drying sweat. He licked the salty skin beneath his lips and began sucking with purpose, enjoying the shudder it caused in the mongrel's frame; all for him alone. Katze was growing responsive to his insistent touches through the thin linen of his trousers.

"Yes..." Raoul moaned, exulting in his conquest as he slid sinuously down the lithe form before him. He had known it was just a matter of time before that velvety flesh would grow rigid beneath his well practiced palm.

Frantically the Elite worked at the complicated clasp that safeguarded the zipper, sighing aloud when he saw the heavy blood engorged member twitching, its head wet and glistening.

Raoul licked his lips instinctively and looked up into blazing amber eyes, ignoring the painful thrum of his own cock. Emerald eyes followed the path of the mongrel's index finger as it traced an enticing path along the underside of the dealer's blushing member, outlining again and again the distended vein with growing urgency.

"Open up, Blondie. It's what you want, isn't it?"

There really was a fine line between aggression and lust. Feral were the eyes that studied his lips with a dissolute smile. "Need to fuck that beautiful mouth of yours, Raoul. Will you let me?"

Raoul nodded. This was wholly unlike his Katze.

The dealer's gaze remained hooded as he bit into his full lower lip and groaned pressing his wet cock head against the Elite's parted lips with a sigh. He fingered the soft thick silk at the base of the Blondie's skull before nudging more forcefully against the soft moist flesh as it parted for him willingly.

Bracing strong hand against the mongrel's partially exposed hip bone for better leverage, Raoul acquiesced fully, his other hand covering that of the mongrel's adapting to the pace of the strong, fine boned hand. Raoul closed his eyes and rhythmically lathed and sucked the weeping head of Katze's cock.

"Mmmm...nice... so wet...mmm...more tongue... " Katze rocked his hips, relinquishing his grasp of his cock in lieu of the spun silk he buried his fingers in while continuing to brutalize the moist suction of Raoul's mouth.

Opening wider, Raoul inhaling the distinctive musk of his mongrel joyfully, while his forehead beaded with sweat from his efforts to sate what he saw in those eyes. Those long, fine bone digits directed the pace of his ravenous lapping and now expert twirl of tongue against the damp bitter sweet slit.

The dealer gasped at the sensation, almost bending double over the Elite's shoulder bearing his full weight. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest as he came in surges into the delectable heat of Raoul's craven mouth.

Limp and shivering in a post coital haze, Katze found himself on his back, vaguely aware of the sounds of ripping material and frustrated curses came to his ears. Raoul was nothing but a blur of motion.

So much for the tunic, so much for his trousers, he thought absently eyeing with growing interest Raoul's substantial erection, peaking through the hem of his shirt.

Oh yeah, from the look on Raoul's face, he was going to be ridden hard and fast. His sphincter twitched as he smoothed long fingers over his slick abdomen to the soft auburn brush wet with cum. Tantalizingly, the redhead made a conscious show of fondling his balls before spreading his cheeks, exposing to greedy eyes the puckered flesh of his entrance.

The Elite was panting harshly through still wet white speckled lips, his thick heavy cock in hand, waiting to pounce.

Despite himself, Katze grinned up at his, well, lover. No other word for it really. He reached up with trembling hands and pulled the exquisite face to his and kissed sex thickened lips languidly.

"Missed a spot, Sexy," he whispered passing his tongue over the cock bruised flesh that tasted decadently of his essence. "Thank you for indulging me, Sir Am."

A pale brow quirked as long limbs wasted no time settled between the mongrel's invitingly splayed legs. Katze shuddered in pleasure at the feel of the thick length pulsing wetly against his hipbone, promising pained pleasure as their lips met once again, sending renewed waves of want through the mongrel's recently sated loins.

Raoul raised his head, dilated pupils alight with fire as he studied the flushed skin of Katze's perfectly imperfect face.

"Don't thank me yet, Katze. There had better be lube still in that low drawer or one of us will be screaming in agonizing pain and I assure you, it won't be me."

There was challenge in those soft amber eyes as Katze undulated suggestively below him, creating just enough space between their respective torsos, continuing to lick the evidence of his own fruition from the Elite's upper lip.

Raoul gasped aloud at the unexpected and wholly welcomed touch of his mongrel's fingers pressing deeply into the dripping slit of his cock. Katze smirked before opening his mouth suggestively and licking his fingers clean of the sticky wetness.

"Delicious."

One thing he could say for sure of his Elite, he caught on quickly as was evidenced by the three fingers forced into his mouth in lieu of a reply. Raoul's eyes closed briefly imagining his cock being suckled instead by that exceptional mouth.

"Hurry, for your own sake. Saturate them. I cannot wait any longer."

His back arching off the carpeting with the forceful thrust of two digits deep into his body and then there were three hurriedly prodding, thrusting deeper and deeper sending shivers up his spine. They curled and stretched tight muscles without the usual finesse Raoul employed in foreplay, so urgent was his need.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Kato stopped briefly, his attention caught by the repetitive thump that appeared to be coming from the wall that masked the outer port of Mr Katze's office.

At first perplexed by the sound, he stood and listened. Soon harsh breathing became evident and a familiar voice rang out.

"Yeesss...mmmm...yes, oh fuck yes, harder!"

My, well that was the Master's voice to be sure, and from the sound of things, Kato removed a kerchief from his sleeve, they had obviously worked through their difficulties or at least were in the throes of doing so.

"Deeper, yes, yes...! Yeah...God...yes...right there...mmmm...mmmm...don't stop!"

The manservant mopped his forehead again and turned, spinning senselessly in circles of indecision, so thankful that the hallway was private. Really, he had been young once, but this was perhaps a little too much for one of his age to overhear.

Kato's eyes became saucers as the Elite's guttural rejoinder punctuated the proceedings.

"So greedy and tight, my Katze, yes, yes, spread them wider, touch yourself, show me your desire. Yes, just like that." Raoul grunted.

"Fuck it! Fuck me harder...mmmm, yeah... Oh yeah, yeah...ooooh God..."

His master had begun to keen as if speaking a sacred mantra further fuelling the rhythmic pounding that had become fevered in its pitch at the debauched command uttered by his Master's pleading rasp.

Decision made Kato hurried back down the hall, but not quickly enough.

The thudding grew even more frantic as he rounded the stairs, walking face to chest into a dressed Donovan.

"We should return downstairs and wait, Donovan. They are still, aaah discussing matters. Mr. Katze isn't quite ready to leave yet."

"The hell he isn't." Donovan snarled and headed for the hidden door beyond the faux wall. He'd just about had enough this morning of that self indulgent pair and intended to break this little tryst up before they 'discussed' each other to death.

Both men jumped at the sound of furniture being overturned by the overly exuberant pair.

The rhythmic thumping began again in earnest.

Donovan rushed to the door, placing his ear against the supposed wall. They couldn't be. He knew that sound well enough of wet flesh meeting flesh. He could actually hear Katze groaning and it wasn't in pain, even if it did sound as though he was being murdered.

"Say it! You welcome this invasion. I can see it. You will only touch yourself when I give permission." Raoul rasped, his own breathing harsh with the effort of pounding up into the slick, quivering heat of his mongrel.

"Please...wanna ...cum. Raoul...mmm...please let me cum..." Katze's uttered breathlessly, his breath torn from his chest in heaving gasps.

"That's it, yes, taking me deeper, my Katze. You know you want this. You crave it, your quivering muscles tell me so. You're close, just a little deeper, my love, pull me further into your searing heat."

Guy was so right. They were hot together.

"Yes, just like that, my Katze. Show me... show me your face as you quicken with desire for me as I do for you."

"Aaaaaaaaaaahhh..." the dealer cried out. "Yes, ...I can feel ...so good...mmm..._RAAOOOUL! I'm coming!_" Katze bellowed at the top of his lungs.

Kato poked the bodyguard whose ear was plastered to the door.

Donovan raised his head and glared at the little man for interrupting his thought, realizing he too had been softly panting at the proposed visual, his own jeans tightening uncomfortably around his trapped member.

Not that he actually wanted to see his Boss like this, but damn they _were_ hot. This was better than any pairing they ever had downstairs. Seriously verbal too, more than he ever really wanted to know about that tight ass and its merits or the Blondie's skills. Fuck he'd gotten a hard-on just listening. Yep, one more reason to hate Raoul Am.

He'd never be able to look at Red the same way again and he sure as hell wasn't going to stand that invite to work out with him either.

Placing a thick digit to his lips, the guard demanding silence, just as the Elite apparently shot his load deep into his mongrel's tight orifice.

The rhythmic thumping ceased.

Relative silence, just the shifting of limps and soft entreaties as both men caught their breath.

Donovan's brows danced at its suddenness; he pressed his ear against the wall harder, less out of prurient curiosity and more out of worry, Katze had clearly been ridden hard by the still panting Elite.

"Shhhhhh be still my love, deep breath." The guard heard the softly whispered request followed by the muffled cry and knew why. Raoul had withdrawn.

"You'll only make it worse by trying to stand. Lay still."

Another sharp hiss of pain, "I'm fine, Raoul. Stop touching it. I'm not your patient. I asked for it and you gave it to me good. I'm not exactly complaining. I liked it."

"A point worth clarifying, Katze, I do not touch my patients in this manner. I intend to gag you next time. Your wanton words of encouragement caused this. You are fragile of make, despite that debauched tongue. I could have damaged you, irreparably."

"But you didn't, so stop it. You're not Iason. I'm fine. Drop it."

Donovan's brows furrowed. '_What the hell was Raoul doing to him?'_

Gentle fingers circled the abused, loosened muscles of Katze's sphincter with regret. Usually the sight of his essence dripping, nay pouring forth anointing the perfect spheres of his mongrel's buttocks always sent renewed waves of lust through his own loins. Not now. He'd lost control and he couldn't fathom why.

Donovan was relieved to hear the familiar snort. "Does that mean you're my bitch tonight, Sir Am?" Praises to Jupiter, the Boss was okay, if he could be making cracks like that.

Cerulean eyes blinked in disbelief as soft, warm laughter came from the Elite's throat after a long pause.

"My, my some of us are ambitious. Yes, for as many nights as you can manage, dear mongrel. Tonight however, we will simply enjoy conversing, a fine meal, prepared sans poisonous agents, exceptional wine and then perhaps a bit of star gazing before we seek our rest in my abode. I will not touch you, except like this."

He recognized the muffled sound for what it was. They were kissing.

"I could so easily love you, Raoul Am." Katze sighed contentedly.

Uncharacteristically, Donovan began to blush.

"Then by all means do, Katze of Ceres."

Donovan suddenly felt soiled, partaking of their intimacy in this way.

This entire exchange had not been meant for anyone's ears. He slowly stepped back and away followed dutifully by the pensive manservant, who was busily concocting the night's menu in his head. The challenge would be getting a hold of that hateful Furniture and relying on him to agree to the surprise.

**~~~BMR~~~**

**Author's Note**

I sincerely hope you enjoyed. Let me know. I did release this chapter without its final segment cause you have waited long enough. The next revelatory segment begins Ch 33 - Soul's Kiss. It fits. It suits.

**Namaste**

**EP**


	34. Chapter 33

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **33**

**Reviews are fuel.**

_"I smile._

_Like a siren's call, the light of dusk caresses, giving depth to the shadowed light that is the close of day and coming of night. And still I smile with your palm in mine. How remarkable that faint tremor as your breath catches in the moment that silken shroud of darkness falls, obliterating the Sun._

_Consistent... for this, I smile."  
_

Opening lines, _The Kimono_, J. Westmoreland

**Chapter 33** of ? – By Design (Post OVA)

With a deep exhalation Katze leaned heavily on the main entrance doors of the Mink penthouse. Glad to be rid. The debrief had been lengthy to say the least, but Iason was relatively content, profit wise, not so much by the antics of the Ruby and his retinue in their currently favoured abode.

There had been complaints from the other patrons of the hotel.

Pressing the lift button that promised freedom, Katze sighed. No doubt Raoul expected him to make a detour to his flat for the evening, but duty called and in some ways, Katze was beyond thankful. Something had irrevocable changed between them both this afternoon. He'd almost blown it. That carefully tended exterior he prided himself on was beginning to crack.

No, this was better. He'd deal with the irate Blondie in the morning after a full night of rest that did not involve various parts of his anatomy co-joined with his Elite. Delightful as it was, there was a time and place.

Anyway, he needed to check on Donovan. Something was definitely off there. The man had been incapable of looking at him when both he and Raoul had come down the stairs. Not even after the limousine departed, taking the Elite back to his own residence had the marked tension decreased between them.

Sure, he'd done the right thing and showed the right amount of respect in front of the other men, but something was definitely off in his manner. A pointed distance had formed in fact. Hell he even managed to fit in that little inconvenience they had both spoken off in the games room, never the most pleasant aspect of their black market careers, getting rid of dead wood.

Katze hadn't had to lift a finger. The body had been dispensed with. The head brought back for identification purposes, its mouth full of credit notes for surety before being set on the backstreet's makeshift pyre as a warning.

The stout, albeit somewhat stale, no point wasting a good brew on the denizens, was served freely in the alley to the milling throng who grasped at the paper notes, emptying the still open mouth that looked to be silently screaming now, frightened sightless eyes still open.

Those attending full well understood their role in the proceedings, liquid payment and hard credit for disseminating the news of another receiving his just desserts. There but for the grace of Subzero Scarface was implicit in the act. They were to speak loudly and freely of the event.

A good crowd overall, Katze congratulated himself without joy, bending forward so the identification laser could scan his iris before allowing him to descend in the lift.

He shook his head, remembering the authorized thugs of Midas Security, who paid no more than lip service and cursory inspection of the ashes.

Just another day's close, the Black Market dealer thought, his own stomach plummeting as the lift rapidly descended and his thoughts were brought back to his Number One.

'_What the fuck was with Donovan? Had something happened with Sid? Was he getting worse?'_

Katze had been so wrapped in his own thoughts, he hadn't noticed the abrupt halt of the lift as it changed direction and he stepped out, noting for the first time it wasn't hard cement beneath his well shod feet, but a rather familiar deep, plush teal rug.

'_Had he pressed the wrong number subconsciously?_' disoriented Katze retraced his steps to the lift. The auto scanner hadn't responded. Amber brows furrowed briefly in consternation as he regarded the monitor and the security dial. It wouldn't do to take the damn thing apart, nor was it an option to find the emergency exit. It always woke the dead and he had never been granted access, except as Furniture. '_What to do?_'

He looked up to the trap door meant only for extreme urgency.

"How long are you going to stand there contemplating that delectable navel of yours? Would it not be easier to come in as you should have done in the first place? There is no escape, Katze of Ceres. Our meal will grow cold and there is no point looking pinched and displeased upon hearing my voice. I demand your presence."

Katze wondered briefly as he stepped back onto the deep pile, noting for the first time the shadowed presence leaning on the door's frame, about the merit of slowly, luxuriantly strangling his lover, post a deep wet kiss to sanctify the act.

'_Why bother.'_

The dealer sighed aloud and accepted his fate walking forward with wide flung arms in utter defeat as warm lips took his and that ever resilient hard body conformed to his.

Another semi-despondent sigh, why couldn't his feet feel the threshold? Oh yeah he was being manhandled again by the overbearing Blondie. But did it actually matter when that delicious tongue was playing the moist sanctum of his mouth so expertly and the damn man smelt so good to boot?

No, it really didn't matter about being plastered to his form and feeling the slide of skin warmed silk against his torso. Nope, it didn't really matter either that his legs were being jogged up and around a lean waist by those long fingers in a fearsome grip that cupped his backside.

He was conscious of his breathing, unable to concentrate on the most rudimentary of thoughts slowly drowning in the verdant depths peering inquiringly back at him. Hard pressed to ignore the deafening beat of his heart or his suddenly leaden tongue, he did finally note that Raoul's lips were actually moving.

That deep resonance was trying to intruding on his foggy bliss but for the life of him he couldn't fathom what was being imparted. His own fingers, endlessly fascinated by the soft mouth before him stopped the distracting movement of Raoul's lips but too late to stop the wet importunate tongue from darted between his digits that sent shivers down his spine and straight to his loins.

'_Why was Raoul chuckling?_'

Somewhere in the haze of his fog addled mind, another sense kicked in. Something rather delicious, other than Raoul Am, was in the air. He was hungry.

His stomach began growling embarrassingly loudly in the palpable silence shared as they took in each other's full measure.

"What's for dinner, Sir Am?"

The smile on Raoul's face was positively lewd as he kicked the door shut, contentment radiating from every pore well pleased with the handful of mongrel that fit perfectly within his arms, as if by design.

"You promised." Katze managed slipping one long arm from about the Elite's neck, and sliding down a smooth well muscled flank. Even to his own ears, the protest was pathetic and lacked teeth, teeth like the ones nibbling his neck in answer.

"I keep my word, Katze. You will rest here tonight, after a good meal."

The dealer bit his lower lip, one auburn brow rising suspiciously.

"_Riiiight_, so what's that then," he jogged his hips, "you taken to 'dressing' arms less than discreetly, Sir Am?"

"Aren't you clever? Unlike mongrels, we Elite are perfectly capable of quelling such base desires when appropriate. To employ an antiquated term, Katze, you look like Hell."

The dealer's eyes narrowed.

"Don't start. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Not for want of trying, my dear Katze. As I observed, you were Hell bent on a timely escape back to your imagined warren of safety."

Katze glared at his capture to no avail. "Iason was _challenging_ tonight."

"And this is news to you? This is par for the course, Katze. You have withstood far worse inquisitions."

"True. Just not up to any more challenges for the night, if you know what I mean?" Katze stated flatly, eyeing the Elite meaningfully allowing a wry smile to grace his lips. Absently he fingered the recalcitrant lock of hair that was Raoul's bane. "Yeah, well. I tried. You won."

"But of course. Eventually you will learn to accept your fate with a modicum of grace and dignity instead of always scurrying away in an attempt to avoid the eventual summons that would have come." Raoul purred, leaning into the wholly enjoyable sensation of Katze's long dexterous fingers as they massaged the base of his skull with rhythmic precision.

Gently he lowered the mongrel to the carpeting and beamed at his captive, moderately amused that despite the redhead's words implying annoyance, Katze still clung to him; most pleasing and meriting a reward of lips meeting lips softly. He felt the smile in the first brief and tremulous exchange that did send wanton tremors through his own form at the contact.

Katze breathed in clean smelling spun silk as Raoul's head lowered towards his parted lips again intent on deepening the first kiss. He felt the mongrel stiffen within his grasp and sighed.

"Just to allay your fears, Katze, I have no intentions of pressing my attentions upon your person. Though I hasten to add, that revolver you favour appears to be twitching against my right hip with likeminded zeal."

Amber eyes narrowed with feigned menace at the half hearted censure. "You talk too much. Just kiss me, Sir Am."

Raoul complied with all due alacrity and infinite skill.

_Jupiter but he felt good and smelt even better. No wait, Katze think. Need to establish some rules of conduct for tonight. The first time you left here with your tail between your legs. This kissing shit was dangerous. Oh fuck yeah, right there. No. No. No. Think of Donovan. Need to go back and speak with him. Get your hands out of there Raoul! How dare him do this? Yes. Yes. Like that. Fuckin brain was melting again, swept away literally down the hall towards the bedroom. Where was Deek? NOT GOOD! Never did buy that bullshit about self control, there was nothing controlled about that ravenous mouth or the teeth working on his shirt. Damn...wasn't just that tongue that had skills either. Nice job, most of the buttons remained intact, wouldn't have to charge him for this one. What the hell did he mean, he looked like hell?_

Katze blinked, finding himself atop the bed and exceedingly breathless, but feeling rather cold as Raoul's substantial frame lifted from his. He moaned in protest before propping himself upon his elbows and glared indignantly at the object of his need.

"Hello? What happened to the detailed inventory of my larynx you were taking? Come back here and finish what you started."

Again with the smiling; Now that he got a proper look at his Elite, abstinence was losing its lustre. After all, there were myriad ways of getting them both off in short order. The problem was Raoul didn't really look all that interested at the moment, more smug than anything else with all that mussed hair and dominant stance at the bottom of the bed.

_Fuck but he looked edible._ _Not much on either, totally unfair. Since when did he wear crimson of any hue? What had caused that momentary shiver and the glazed look? _

Raoul shivered, wondering abstractly if Kato had remembered to bring the liquefied chocolate to appease his mongrel's propensity to be orally fixated. The dishevelled mongrel presented quite the edible picture atop his bed. Hair askew, clothing equally so, just a hint of blushing skin where buttons had been hurriedly undone and those mesmerizing eyes, like trapped sunlight, drinking in his own form appreciatively. By now, he knew that look well and all its sensual implications.

One of them had to show some level of self-control, the night was young and there would be time enough to quell the fire in those amber depths in myriad ways. By dawn the mongrel might well come to loathe the taste of chocolate, he did seem to prefer savoury.

It mattered not. Soon the rare and costly treat would afford him the unparallel delight of torturing his mongrel to near insanity and he intended to show no mercy.

"Even I have my limits, Katze. Cover yourself." Raoul chuckled languidly swiping a thick lock of spun gold from a decidedly perfect countenance. "Avail yourself of all the amenities. You will find a suitable garment for the evening in there," the Elite pointed. "Come out in twenty minutes. No sooner. I have a surprise for you before dinner."

Dazed, the dealer watched as the robed Elite sauntered from the bedroom, the door closing behind him with a final click. It was then he heard the running bath water and noted the fireplace had been lit.

He knew seduction when he saw it.

In passing as he stripped with an evil predatory grin, the dealer wondered if chocolate was on the menu. If so, someone's cock would be painted with it, by the end of the night and this time, he intended to get his fill in more ways than one.

Raoul would be on the receiving end tonight.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon was pensive. Admon was always pensive. Tonight however, it was different. His Master's soul held untrammelled joy and pent anticipation, a first for the fragile being who kept himself sacrosanct in the affairs of men.

He was in love, another first which made him both vulnerable and invulnerable to logic.

Mutual chemistry, those two always had it from the first time they met. All he could hope was that it would serve the evening's proceedings well. The pompous Elite would be tested this night. His personal choice, still unclear to the keen mind that lay on the periphery seeking a space to slink in unobserved. For the second time Admon wondered about Raoul Am and how well he knew his line and how much they had in common, even if his empathic abilities remained dormant.

Donovan, however, Admon had never liked him. Too wilful, too coy and desires latent, honed from their mark by discipline. Oh, Admon had known the first time he saw him and perhaps therein lay the seed of Donovan's hatred. He had always seen it. The Irrational One was the right choice. The thrust and parry of limbs as others served to meet the need long held in abeyance, until Guy. Yet subtly, quietly, stealthily, it was there and had always been there and probably always would.

Admon pursed his lips, skimming the hours that had passed since mid afternoon. It had been the right thing, a useful thing to call forth the guard's ire. Make him climb those stairs in irritation so he could experience the rightness of them as a pair, as lovers. Katze was a choice that could never be made. There had never been an invite for the passing thought, the furtive gaze, the odd wet dream, the unhallowed wish.

Guy was a different story. They were well met in their raw passions and both compensated for the other's ineptitudes. Well met, indeed, his rightful pair for the time being.

Admon turned his face to the door, moderately amused as he heard the bodyguard stalking the outer halls, stopping once or twice at his room door full of indecision. The Karinese closed his eyes anticipating the pre-emptive knock that came shortly thereafter.

Pale lips curved maliciously. Decision made. He knew how much it would kill the minder to ask, to even think of posing the question that would undoubtedly come from this next encounter.

Admon gathered his robe about him with a suitably demure expression affixed to his perfect face as he spoke the fateful words of invite.

"Come in."

The cerulean glow within the care worn face spoke volumes as they glided over the preternaturally attractive being occupying the bed with a languid air of expectancy.

"Ask. It serves my Master to aid your kind."

Folding powerful arms across his chest, Donovan frowned and kicked the door shut. He was in charge here.

Bright ruby eyes sparkled coldly up at the male who moved towards him with malevolence in his powerful strides.

"Outward aggression will not serve you in this instance, Donovan. A facile mind can so easily be overcome. Case in point..."

The guard flinched at the rejoinder before beginning to shiver uncontrollably. A sudden cold chill seeping into his sinews, like an ancient cloak that carried with it dis-ease and foreboding, Admon was not what he appeared.

"You have been warned, Donovan. Now take me to your kin. I will do my best for my Master in this instance."

Donovan snarled and grasped Admon's arm in a steely grip, propelling him from his perch upon the bed and flinging him towards the door. The Karinese's back connected with full kinetic force, the same distant smile upon his flawless face as he looked at his arm, where the imprint of the guard's large hand had been. The android smoothed his opposing hand over the bruising flesh with feigned amusement.

The guard blinked in amazement as the finger marks disappeared before his own eyes with the gentle pass of long, expressive fingers over the injured flesh.

"And still you persist in making an enemy of Karin-AD-003, most unwise, Donovan. Considering how much you have to lose, I find this attitude of yours intriguing."

Quietly the minder trailed behind the lithe figure, his teeth grinding at the soft derisive titter coming from those perfect lips.

He just knew it was at his expense, but a strong sense of self preservation told him in the arch of Admon's back to keep his distance from the viperous predator that strode before him. To top it all off on this fuck-all-shit of a night, he was going to miss his date with Guy.

This just wasn't his day or night for that matter.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Twenty minutes.

Raoul had been very precise about the timing of his entrance.

Curiosity aside, Katze was in a quandary about his chosen apparel.

It was white, simple, and reminiscent of robe he once owned while in his Excellency's service as Furniture and more to the point, like the one he had worn that fateful day. He studied his reflection, examined his teeth for something to do before his eyes returned to his robe. Not that impressive. Not even vaguely alluring by choice, unlike the dark silky number that still remained in its vestment sac, not chosen.

There was the other matter too, he thought brushing back his damp hair. Raoul had yet to bring up the subject of the journal. He grimaced at his profile self-consciously.

What was the point of shielding the scar beneath his signature forelock? It wasn't as if Raoul was repulsed by it. Displeased yes, repulsed no. Katze sighed, critiquing the voluminous robe before returning to the scar. The Elite's discerning eyes passed over the disfigurement frequently, but had not made mention of it for some time.

The dealer glared at his reflection in the mirror appraising the being looking back at him superciliously. Subconsciously his lips thinned with displeasure, probably the same look he wore when vetting new acquisitions for the club. No way to hide it. He looked pale and haggard under the unforgiving light. Raoul was right.

He did look like hell with the shadows of obvious fatigue under deep set amber eyes.

Raoul did and said nothing without reason. He'd learnt that about _all_ of them. There was no question in his mind the disparity between both robes had been a conscious gambit, comfort or seduction. It was up to the dealer.

Feeling suddenly despondent his mind catalogued the day, remembering the journal as his fingers examined the soft filmy material of the vestment bag and glided the closure open. It didn't hurt to look considering the effort made in its choosing.

What would the Elite do with the information he had previously left him? Hell of a risk, but aggressive probing would not do tonight. Sometimes real power lay in the delicacy of force, he reminded himself, thoroughly entranced by the cool material beneath his fingers. He'd take his cues from Raoul.

Of this he was sure. This was a test, perhaps even of memory, their first meeting.

Katze smiled, finally understanding the game of choice for what it was. The first move was his to make. The past versus the present, who he was in youth and who he had become in the fullness of maturity.

Without conscious thought he slipped the robe from his shoulders and allowed it to puddle at his naked feet, refolding it with the air of reverence it was due before placing it on the vanity to be retrieved by Deek. That one would always be a spiteful bastard. Katze chuckled softly imagining the fit of pique when the Furniture found it. He had no doubt it would be destroyed at the first opportunity out of sight of his Master.

Five minutes to go.

It was a perfect fit in its simple lines that complemented his angular frame.

He turned and casually observed the effect of the kimono and its crimson lining against his skin. It gave him a somewhat healthier complexion, from pallid gray to glowing porcelain.

Four minutes to go.

Languidly he sniffed the varied unguents, all familiar, save for one that had not been there the last time '_Amber Lust_'.

The dealer studied his reflection again. It wasn't his imagination there was a marked improvement, definitely something he would have chosen with its understated elegance and the fluidity of its lines.

Critical amber eyes surveyed the flow of the material, his eyes caught by the rich tones of the lining once more, particularly that of the right sleeve that bore a distinctive form of sewn calligraphy for want of better words.

He had felt the embossed threading against his forearm but had not given it much thought until now. With furrowed brows he folded back the sleeve with curious fingers, his breath caught by the unexpected and wholly familiar sight, the double helix.

Was this Raoul's answer to his question?

The Ruby's familial symbol and his, the double helix; hard to fathom really that they could share something other than a love for Raoul Am and the superficiality that was appearance, that several had mentioned to the Ruby's utter annoyance.

Katze shook his head trying to make sense of it as his fingers passed over the exquisite embroidery in awe.

Probably just some recessive genes at work, he was a child of the Abyss. Their collective genome had been the source material that had created the differing castes of Elites centuries before. It would also explain his likeness to her these eons later.

It was also why their sect secretly saw him as leader despite the improbability of his birth. Still no records to document the fact; frustrating beyond measure considering he found the other's antecedence from what was left of the journals they held sacred.

Today he had played his hand in hopes of garnering Raoul's help by giving him the journal, even with Admon's prophetic words echoing sharply in his mind's eye.

Trust did not come easily. Only time would tell indeed if he had made the right decision and if it would lead to his imagined fall or that of his peers as Donovan suggested. He'd made a similar unspoken deal so long ago when the Elite had made his unexpected entrance that sunny, quiet day into the Mink household catching him unawares.

His eyes moved to the chronometer on the wall. Two minutes could stretch to an eternity, as now. Two minutes to think. Two minutes to revisit what was being implicitly said in a simple aesthetic choice. If he was right Raoul's answer to the unspoken had been woven delicately into the sleeve of this robe.

Could he trust the elegant simplicity of the answer, they did nothing by halves Jupiter's chosen flock.

It was time.

Taking a deep breath he opened the bedroom door expectantly, his patently neutral gaze flat, unsure of what he would find. The twins held sway tonight as always obliterating all else in the heavens their brightness casting a pewter blue shadow over the seated silhouette sipping his brandy unhurriedly and enjoying the view.

Though he could not see them readily from this distance, Katze knew the stars were out amidst the ink silvered sheen that was the sky's reflection through the screen like triptych of the expansive windows that brought the skies of Tanagura within the cosseted silence.

Katze's lips quirked at the sight; Raoul was the definition of indolent perfection. He wondered briefly if the Elite had practiced the casual pose, another minute might have spoilt the tableau.

"Exquisite. Is it to your liking, Katze?"

"Yes, very much, thank you, Sir Am. To what do I owe this generosity? Couldn't have been that easy having this little number whipped up, in," Katze paused, calculating. "Four and a half hours?"

Raoul rose, a smile playing about his lips as he approached the mongrel, drinking in the elegant, lithe being abstractedly.

"Only the right sleeve's lining had to be altered with the minor finishing touch. Your Kato is quite adept at this sewing thing and enjoyed the challenge, as for the rest, it was commissioned a week ago."

"Kato?"

"Yes, full of surprises that one. I can see why you have not dispensed with him, though his need to prattle can be tiring? You really should see about his eyes. It is a recurring theme in his never ending complaints."

Katze saw the truth of his surmise in the Elite's expression as he raised the crystal goblet to his nose and sniffed the amber liquid with obvious enjoyment while awaiting a response.

"I'm aware, thank you, Sir Am."

"Aaahhh, I see I am treading too close to home, my apologies, Katze. I borrowed your man servant's service for an hour in total."

"No, not necessary, thank you for your concern, but to put your mind at ease, he has to wait his turn. There are others worse off in Ceres. He knows this. Complaining is his forte, Sir Am. I've learn to pay attention only when he doesn't."

A pale brow quirked as the Elite leaned in conspiratorially as naked finger tips slid suggestively across the sensitive skin of his wrist, leaving echoes of warmth in their wake before taking his hand fully and leading him to the couch.

The dealer involuntarily trembled as hot fingers caressed the sleeve of the gown and stealthily crept beneath the folds to touch the warm skin of his wrist once again, as if testing the first response for veracity and logging it to memory.

Katze slowly moved his hand out of reach now that he was seated. He took great pains to study the assortment of delicacies before him on the low table, mentally trying to avoid the intimacy of silence they shared and the pulse of his unruly cock that had taken a decided interest in the feel of those fingers still caressing the outline of his wrist in slow circles.

Blushing with unaccountable embarrassment at so simple a touch, Katze spoke. "Any of this safe to eat considering?"

Raoul chuckled as he rose and headed for the bar, content with his experimental results. "He would not dare risk my health and anyway, I had him sample everything before you arrived. It might interest you that Kato had a hand in the menu. So yes Katze, it is safe."

"Kato did this, when?"

The Elite nodded and examined the various bottles in front of him meditatively, avoiding the question. "What's your poison?"

An undignified snort came from the mongrel's mouth.

Confused gold brows worked as he eyed his mongrel. "Have I made use of the wrong colloquialism? It is hard to keep up with these peculiar turns of phrase you all employ as a means of keeping others out."

Raoul did have a point.

"Well?"

"Merlot if you have it, please?"

Katze leaned forward, remembering his hunger, taking genuine interest in the mouth-watering appetizers. Reaching for something green and fragrant, ever watchful of the Elite's graceful movements behind the bar, Katze noted one anomalous item added to the starters.

A malicious half-smile came to the mongrel's lips. Deek would have been beside himself with rage at its inclusion to be sure. It looked rather innocent at the moment, a single filter tipped cigarette, already poised for consumption in the ashtray.

"Thanks."

"For?"

The dealer pointed with a self deprecating smile as he munched contentedly another item from the delectable assortment. "You thought of everything, Sir Am."

"I choose my battles, Katze." Raoul retorted padding quietly back to join his guest with glasses in hand. "It is your chosen vice for the time being. This I accept."

"By the way, you got it right about the drink thing. Just an incredibly bad pun under the circumstances, Deek hates me."

"There is no love lost on your side either, Katze, occupational hazards one assumes."

Dark amber eyes genuinely smiled at the knowing sideways glance he was being given. "Yeah, you go with that, Sir Am. It's got nothing to do with the fact that I'm bedding his pride and joy."

Raoul studied his snifter pointedly. "Rest assured the incident will never be repeated and let us be clear, I am 'bedding' you, not the other way around."

The dealer rolled his eyes. '_Control issues_.' 'Uh-huh...'

Time to change the subject to something less contentious and ego driven, Katze thought, he really did like the peculiar green thing on the cracker, definitely some kind of creamy vegan concoction subtly spiced with citrus and some manner of saline.

The redhead studied the Blondie with a shy smile as he reached for the last of the three. "You knew which I would choose; How exactly, Sir Am?"

Raoul lifted his head and regarded the mongrel intently for a moment while refilling his snifter before re-corking the decanter.

"Because I know the man in question intimately; I've made a precise study of his likes and dislikes. Take for example the avocado you are devouring with no thought as to sharing."

Katze's throat went dry taking in the sultry yet amused expression in those eerily sparkling eyes that pinned him, even at half mast beneath that unruly lock of gold.

Raoul had misunderstood. He felt heat rising in his face again. "Sorry. I meant the robe, actually, Sir Am."

The eyes in that perfectly sculpted face added to the unspoken want as they drank him in as a gentle smile formed on well formed lips.

"I know what you meant, Katze."

Predatory, really it was the only word that best described the set of Raoul's countenance while he studied the mongrel's lips upon his approach.

"He is a slave to his senses when aroused, particularly those of touch, sight and taste."

Katze averted his gaze as hot finger tips reached for and caressed his own briefly before the long stemmed glass was placed in his nerveless grasp.

"He is sensual, has dominance issues but is a sensory delight for those fortunate to see beyond his brittle edges."

The redhead inhaled the warm, fruity musk of the liquid to buy time almost choking. _'Evil tease licking the rim of the goblet like that.'_

It was getting hard to breathe with Raoul's nearness and the rich timbre of his voice lulling his senses. Every word was a caress, a slow seduction firing his senses. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, watching the graceful figure seat himself and lean back onto the plush pillows.

He wanted Raoul and the damn man knew it.

_Straight to my fucking cock! Two can play at this game, well, if it was a game. They loved this kind of game where you titillated the senses unmercifully with voyeuristic glee. Think, Katze. Stop watching him and wanting to be the freakin' brandy going down his throat.'_

"The efforts required to arouse him are always well worth it, though he hides his anima beneath a severe guise that few penetrate and speaking of penetrating, he is rather adept."

Katze crimsoned prettily about the face and neck and swigged his wine in one inelegant gulp almost choking before handing the empty glass to Raoul.

"More!"

He needed to stop the oration. Too detailed, too precise and simply too true, the Elite had pegged him.

"He is also privately indulgent where no one else can see."

Katze needed to change Raoul's focus. "Takes one to know one, Sir Am, nicely played, almost wore the other one instead."

The Elite smiled openly then and sat back content to swirl the contents of his snifter for the time being, merely placing the empty stemmed glass on the table, his lips set in a pensive moue.

"Excellent counter in an attempt to divert the lines of discourse, but no, Katze, it actually represents your past. Comforting, simple and unadorned, but not the man you are now in private.

An uncomfortable silence fell between both verbal combatants as Katze weighed the pros of cons of a sharp retort.

"You dislike being put under a microscope. That is usually your purview, isn't it?"

Katze weighed the comment as he beckoned the Elite with one elegant finger and stole the snifter.

_He blushes when confused; how quaint._

Lust darkened sea green eyes followed the graceful motion of the mongrel's finger tip and continued to muse about the entity seated next to him as the dealer sipped and evened his breathing to the best of his abilities.

_Those eyes were the same colour of the brandy now. They often bespoke rage barely tethered and yet in this moment they were as liquid warmth with the promise of passion as yet unexpressed, hidden by curiosity and a need for control. Why had Iason never noticed this or the intellect that resided in that handsome head?_

Raoul internally thanked his maker now that his leader hadn't. It would have complicated matters even more so.

"Sir Am?"

_Always weighing the pros and cons of every exchange for fear of loss, or censure, but that was to be expected by his birthright, Raoul thought leaning towards the warm lips being licked nervously._

The shattering of glass as it encountered the low wooden table did not interest the Elite at the moment, or the warm viscous liquid flowing over his naked hand. He reached for his prize and pressed broad shoulders down into the giving plush material of the couch. The warm tang of his mouth, the scent of him was overpowering, well beyond that of fragrance.

Raoul closed his eyes basking in the upturned mouth that opened and welcomed his tongue's intrusive probing with soft murmurs of encouragement. Not enough, not nearly enough to sate the burn between his legs.

Voracious he ate at the mouth surrendering to the combat of limbs intertwined, seeking, caressing, grasping in earnest as each other's warm breath fanned their faces in an attempt to do the impossible and merge as one.

Breathing, unfortunate but an essential of life, Raoul thought finally pulling away with a harsh rasp, allowing the life giving air to both their heaving chests.

Katze was surprisingly the first to recover.

"Mmmmmm...much better, Katze murmured against the Elite's panting mouth. "Theory's nice, but practice is better."

The dealer moaned adjusting his limbs to better conform to the body atop his, aligning his erection with that of the turgid length slowly grinding him deeper into the couch with each stuttering thrust of pelvis, amazed and equally mesmerized by the far off look in sea green eyes intently gazing at his mouth.

Raoul seriously wanted to fuck him badly at the moment. Not that he was exactly complaining or anything, but he didn't need Deek coming in and destroying the moment with a declaration about dinner or some equally tiresome crap.

Those long fingered hands were sinful as they caressed his cheek and snaked their way between and down the opening of his robe coming to rest suggestively at the base of his cock with the lightest touch of finger tips.

"Think we'll make it through the meal or you wanna maybe repair to the bedroom and have a quickie instead of boring pre-dinner conversation?"

Raoul's groaned in ecstasy, still trying to find a suitable retort as Katze's fingers and palm worked their familiar magic against burning, throbbing flesh. Those lips and teeth travelled the length of his neck licking and nipping their way through his sanity and resolve, were not helping.

"Appetizers?" came the pubertal retort between soft moans. Somehow, it seemed the right thing to say, even if now it seemed somewhat nonsensical.

Katze grinned up at the Elite, thoroughly unimpressed by the attempt at bribe, as dexterous fingers happily grasped his own and made a twin of their bodily surges towards fulfillment.

"What else do you have on offer to wet my appetite, Sir Am?" the dealer murmured against Raoul's neck, punctuating his thought with a slow sensual grind of his own hardened length, both mutually slick with expectation at the growing promise of fulfillment.

Raoul felt the smile against his throat. His damn mongrel was doing this intentionally as payback for his own coy teasing earlier.

He was a hairs breadth from surrendering to the call of his body and that of the male whose lips had tongue had developed a strong fascination , nay fixation, on his left nipple while that other lethal hand made quick work of loosening his robe fully, exposing his need to hooded downcast eyes.

"Even better now that I have your undivided attention, Sir Am."

'_Control issues_. _Katze had them in droves and always would_.' Raoul mused, slowly regaining his resolve. This would always be the challenge of two Alpha males determined to lead, even in coitus as their bodies quickened with the lust of acquisition.

Slowly levering himself upright with the mongrel still stubbornly attached, Raoul pulled at the soft red hairs at the base of Katze's scalp insistently almost painfully willing him to stop. So wet and soft a tongue was still extended, refusing to be denied its newest toy.

The Blondie groaned torturously at the too right sensations powering his mind's focus downward to the hand that had grown somewhat more insistent between their thighs, generously spreading their pre-cum to further slick both in readiness.

This had to stop now or his mongrel would regret his actions. He had brought him here for more than this, tonight. He roughly tugged Katze's wrist.

Message received by the look in confused dark amber eyes that slowly grew distant and defensively hooded in thought.

Raoul adjusted his robe primly, finally allowed to extricate himself from the warm, flexible limbs that had previously surrounded him like a custom made glove.

Lowering his own gaze to the floor, unable to maintain eye contact with the panting figure that lay prone on his couch with un-sated sex exposed, Raoul stood on shaking limbs, prepared to retreat to the relative safety of the wet bar.

What they both needed right now was space, space to think for the coming conversation. Until it was had, all of this, however intoxicatingly pleasurable, would be moot. He knew Katze well enough to realize this.

How chaste and unexpected, Katze thought, moderately irritated and yet amused at the comical speed of retreat and the Elite's off kilter gait when heading for the bar. His soft amber gaze narrowed speculatively.

The Blondie's sudden feigned and rather intent interest in the contents of the decanter in front of him, said it all. Raoul was up to something more than casual seduction and the redhead intended to get to the bottom of it, cause this on-again-off-again shit was doing his head in.

"That's twice now, Raoul. You're going to give me a complex at this rate with the on again, off again, signals. If this isn't what you wanted, why did you really stop me leaving?"

Without turning, Raoul spoke. "You really shouldn't drink on an empty stomach, Katze. It tends to make you demanding sexually and less than logical when it comes to implicit conversational cues."

Katze sat up and adjusted his robe mildly perturbed by the statement. Maybe he had read Raoul's seduction theme all wrong after all. The dealer reached for the cigarette instinctively, his features becoming pinched with pent anger as he lit it and inhaled deeply and to top it off his fucking cock was killing him at the moment. He needed to release. Everything was a fucking game with these fuckers.

"Let me get this straight, Sir Am. You" Katze pointed accusingly, "did all this including swanning about half naked with a perpetual hard on digging into my pelvis, and I'm the one unable to read cues?"

Raoul's shoulders became rigid with guilt. The mongrel had a point. Only his sense of discipline had prevented their inevitable joining.

"Excuse the fuck out of me for thinking you wanted to screw my brains out as per usual."

"That is quite enough! Remember where you are, Katze. This is not your brothel and I am not one of your patrons to be spoken to so disrespectfully!" Raoul barked. "I am equally in immediate physical discomfort but it will pass, stop pouting. This is in no way easy for me either."

The redhead rose and squared his shoulders unsteadily. He'd had just about enough of this shit and intended to get the hell out back to the place where he belonged and knew the rules because he made them.

"Sit down, Katze! I am not done with you."

Katze inhaled deeply of the sweet smoke before stubbing it out, eyes still holding fast to that of equally furious green orbs before snorted derisively at the glowering Elite, who looked almost petulant and confused. Some things simply never would change.

"Too bad, Sir Am, cause I'm done with you. Do your worst! Thanks for another fucked up evening of me wanting you and you rejecting me because of some screwed up shit in your own head. I won't even bother asking what I did wrong this time. We're done. Well and truly done this time."

Katze's shoulder was slammed painfully back down into the couch.

"No we are not. Sit, damn you!"

Ignoring the eerily quiet growl, Katze glared fearlessly back up into livid green eyes, though his innards quaked at the unfamiliar expression of pleading within verdant eyes.

"So now you are going to hit me and put me back in my place, right Sir Am?"

Raoul blanched at the casualness of the rebuke in words and the cold, basilisk like expression in formerly limped pools that welcomed his previous touch. He recoiled visibly, turning his back to the mongrel with a level of regret. It had been his first thought.

"No! Give me some semblance of credit."

The dealer suddenly remembered the journal still in the Blondie's possession, somewhat surprised by the easy victory but cautious of its outcome. He breathed deeply. Deja vu, like the first deal struck when they initially met. Like now, Raoul had held all the cards.

Katze studied the broad back that trembled uncontrollably, fascinated by the sight of a usually taciturn Elite striving desperately for control.

"Credit for what, Raoul, managing not to make a mess of my face this time cause you are pissed that I just didn't bow down to your usual demands like a good little Pet?"

Through gritted perfect teeth Raoul turned, causing Katze to lean back heavily into the couch, actually for the first time afraid for his life at the feral gleam he saw in pale irises. "Do not take that tone with me, Katze. Not now please."

They never showed this side and once again, it became clear why they were not allowed to partake of companionship in an appreciable way. Base emotiveness uncontrolled and untried could so easily be their undoing; a bio-mechanical entity in the midst of flux.

" I...I...require a moment to gather my thoughts, Katze. Please remain still. You being a moving target is distracting instinctually, please just sit for both our sakes while I process."

This was exactly what he always knew. Both he and Raoul, or any mongrel and Elite were a mistake. A mere happenstance of lust incapable of finding common ground, either by race, creed or caste; a mistake, a sick joke that Jupiter would undoubtedly enjoy in the coming days and used as a lesson plan for any other that would dare to cross the lines in future.

Katze needed closure, despite the plummeting of his stomach as he looked at the shattered snifter and gathered the pieces before him, placing them on the upturned serving tray for something to do. What he was about to say would seal their fate. It saddened him, but it had to be done for sanity's sake.

"Despite my better judgement, Raoul, I love you and I know I will always want you, that is why I offer this."

No response as the Elite stood stock still.

"I ask that what I shared with you remain between us and that you keep my secret and return the journal whatever the price you deem appropriate, Sir Am."

He watched as the broad back stiffened a fraction.

"What I desire has no price, Katze. I thought that self evident in my gift."

"You say that now, Sir Am, I know the ways of the world, don't forget. Amoi is complex. Just know no matter what happens in the coming days my body remains yours and I'll serve without question until you tire of me at which point I'm sure we can come to some other form of agreement in kind as payment for your continued silence."

He stood and willed himself not to falter as he headed for the bedroom door. Katze reached it in the palpable silence and grasped the handle of the door. He smiled sadly at it, another anomalous find of antiquity. They had all the wrong things in common. Perhaps under another set of moons they could have been friends, companions but not in their world.

Something made him turn to face the presence he felt behind him. He did not look into those haunted eyes. He couldn't.

"Good night, Sir Am."

Katze reached for the knob again and turned it moving away from the Elite, who was far too close for comfort, having followed him silently to the door.

He heard the familiar inhalation and stilled anticipating the words spoken in derision. It was better this way. End as they meant to continue.

"How disappointing, a base mongrel, through and through. You are well suited to your profession after all as whore monger."

The dealer flinched, grasping the bedroom doors knob with a white knuckled grip.

He'd walked right into that, but damn it, he wouldn't hold his tongue.

"Funny considering your dick never found fault with this base mongrel's ass or his mouth or his own cock deeply seated in your sanctimonious ..."

"Stop it!"

Katze winced at the volume.

"Emulating the behaviour of your whores with an attempt at ribald humour is distasteful under the circumstances, Katze of Ceres. You do your ancestry no favours proposing so profligate a compromise with your body who some find sacred."

"How the hell would you know anything about it, Sir Am? When have you ever in your existence been told, exactly what and where you are valued? In my world, it is the tangible that counts. We mongrel's leave the abstract and the esoteric to you, that is your purview and luxury in being the Chosen."

Katze closed his eyes tightly, willing his breathing to even.

"It's all I have to offer you of value, Sir Am in my reality. I promise you no one will ever know outside the select few who serve me. It's a good deal, Raoul Am. It takes the edge off for both of us. I won't lie. I want you something fierce, even though I want to kill you right now because of what I am feeling. I don't appreciate being out of control. Give me credit for being the first to recognize this...is the best we'll ever have and leave it there."

"How _daaare_ you attempt to reduce me to your pathetically simple sense of right and wrong? I am not like your mongrel beast, Donovan, who covets your body by the way. So much for being observant, Katze of Ceres," Raoul snarled, finally at his wits end as he swivelled the lithe form around and whose head remained bowed, refusing to hold his eyes.

"Look at me damn you, Katze!"

"Let go of me and leave Donovan out of this! Don't go there. He has always had my back and I his."

"Are you even listening to yourself? Have you heard nothing I've said this night? Why do you refuse to acknowledge the reverence I shown you as if you were a brethren?"

Katze gritted his teeth and glared up at the Elite with murderous eyes as he continued to struggle futilely against the Elite's superior strength. "I said, let me the fuck go, Raoul!"

"No! My patience is at an end with your delusional tantrums, Katze."

Funny but Raoul sounded almost desperate as he clutched both shoulders firmly and pressed them to the door, then thought better of it as the resilient muscles below his palms rebelled and trembled.

He let go, choosing instead to roll large elegant hands at his side into a tight ball of fury.

"Just sit, if you will."

Furtively the dealer looked up beneath thick lashes. This was the second time the Blondie had reined himself in without being asked. The Elite's usually pale and perfect face was high in colour as he pointed to the couch, brooking no argument before slowly lowering the gesticulating hand to the mongrel's hand.

"Please, Katze, please."

Raoul's fearsome grip was firm against Katze's palm but in no way painful as the mongrel was swung towards the couch and landed with an undignified plop as the Blondie hovered over him.

The mongrel's lips thinned in anger, but he kept his own counsel and waited with elegant limbs folded.

"Well, get on with it? Time's money, Blondie."

Leaning forward with menace, Raoul hissed. "Shut it! You will sit there and listen."

Katze cut his eye, but kept his own counsel finding the view outside the library window, exceptionally compelling. It was better than admitting defeat. Raoul had never spoken to him like this before. He felt chastised.

"No more of this running like a beaten cur with your tail between your comely legs."

Now that was different, censure in the form of a compliment, the moons arcing gracefully across the night sky without.

"I need a smoke." Katze retorted flatly crossing said legs, the soft fall of the already open pack being thrown and landing on his lap.

This compromise was a good start.

"Thanks," Katze murmured noncommittally and lit his cigarette, glancing sideways at the Elite.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Ruby eyes surveyed their surroundings, a delicate nose wriggled with disgust at the pervading stench that rose up from the wet gutter as Donovan opened his passenger side door.

Admon did not wish to hazard a guess as to true contents of the offensive melange other than rank sweat, spoilt food and rotting organic matter strewn about the side street Bison called home.

These were the actual slums of Ceres at their very worst; the colour of poverty was gray.

"This way," Donovan pointed begrudgingly in the direction of a dilapidated building, still keeping his distance as he stepped back and away from the Karinese and moved forward, jostling the few who walked the night street out of his way.

"Speed it up, Admon. We ain't got all night."

Pale blue eyes fixed on the sandals Admon had chosen to wear on this occasion. Come to think of it, he'd never seen those damn perfect feet covered before. Maybe he wasn't as stupid as he thought, probably afraid of dirt.

Crimson eyes danced meeting the circumspect gaze with genuine humour. "One adapts, Donovan. It is the key to survival."

"So you comin' or what?" the bodyguard huffed. "Don't need a lecture on survival from you pretty boy...thing..."

Admon sighed and adjusted his cowl, taking one more cursory look at his surrounding with sadness. Jupiter had failed ignobly in its task. This was not how it should have been.

In theory, they were to have peacefully co-existed not thrown into abject slavery for those of Midas' citizenry who spun their webs of accomplishment on the children's backs, while sycophantically serving false masters.

He looked up to the beneficent indifferent twins momentarily caught by the dark cast of cloud cover indicating imminent rain. A black rain soon would come, acrid in its content, beating the beaten further.

Clarity at last, all those eyes, all those undisciplined emotions desperate and in pain, pain they no longer recognized, pain that had turned to abject hunger and a will to survive just another day. He had felt that once, in his isolated three year span. He finally understood the Ruby's purpose in doing so; knowledge, perhaps even empathy as an unintended by product of his study.

Hatred and awe if he had to give the emotive pulses names and all coming from the minder whose hand stayed close to his hip and the gun secreted there. Admon smiled, the fools they passed thought it was for his protection, he knew better.

'Safeguard yourself always, Admon when in their midst. Fear rules them and that is what makes them dangerous when gathered.'

His former Master the Ruby had been right. He rarely was wrong in his conjectures save one. The hatred within Admon's heart was fading as forgiveness began to take its place. Ajna's immediacy and counsel had helped this night. Only the weak were vested in the destruction of another. Only the weak were incapable of forgiveness; self forgiveness the only one that actually mattered.

Donovan stopped in front of the building.

Trepidation? Fear, hmmm some facsimile of both, whose quality remained strained and all pointed to Guy of Bison.

"Here." Donovan rasped, pale eyes gliding over the Karinese's form suspiciously. "This is Bison territory, you're safe. No one will dare approach you."

Ignoring the tall well built mongrel, Admon moved forward toward the first gray step, just as thunder crackled, electrifying the putrid air. He felt the paw-like hand touch his sleeve somewhat apologetically.

"Wait. I just need to kinda" Donovan scratched the back of his head with embarrassment evident in the flush of his well formed face, "explain things to Guy first, so he won't misunderstand and maybe get in the way of whatever it is you're gonna do for Sid."

Admon inclined his head with a knowing smile. "Of course, Donovan, have your moment. I am in no way interested in the details of your failed tryst this night. Far be it for me to enter the home of the Irrational One unannounced, causing further delay and incident."

Donovan's lower jaw worked as he turned and stared down the Karinese. "Stop taunting Guy, understood?"

"You would do well to follow your own instructions."

"Who the fuck do you think you're..."

Unable to help himself, Donovan swung at the smug, perfect face staring back at him with clear amusement.

At lightning speed a gray gloved hand appeared out of Admon's left sleeve and muffled the impact meant for his face, aglow in the sudden lightning flash that set fire to already menacingly crimson eyes turned skyward. The minder grimaced in pain at the pulsing warmth that had turned his arm muscles and that of his fist to gelatinous fire.

"Stop wasting my time, Mongrel."

Donovan gritted his teeth in agony as the iron doors flew open and Guy appeared with laz-rifle cocked, a red bead of light centred between Admon's eyes.

"Why's the cocksucker pissed at you, Donny Boy?" Guy queried with a maniacal smile affixed to his worn handsome face, gray eyes taking in Donovan's unusual pallor.

"Get back inside, Guy."

Admon sniffed the air, ignoring the tall, lean figure casually crouched against the door. Guy's aura had shifted towards enraged confusion mixed with hurt at the words spoken; promising, he could, if inspired, be controlled.

"You don't give the orders here, Donny Boy. I do. Yo Princess, I'm talkin' to you, he bitch! You have five seconds to let him the fuck go or I'll use that pretty face of yours for target practice and I never miss!"

Releasing a long suffering sigh, the Karinese shifting his gaze to the top of the stairs before languidly lowering his sight to meet that of frightened blue eyes, silently pleading with him; interesting, Donovan was in actuality not pleading for a release despite the indescribable pain he was being put through. No, in actuality he was begging for Guy's mercy; how fortuitous a discovery for them both.

He let go of the mongrel's fist and sighed. "The rain is coming, Donovan. I can smell it even amidst the stench of this street and its occupants. Pacify him before he becomes a menace to himself and all others about."

Guy charged down the stairs towards Admon, recognizing the insult for what it was, just as Donovan side stepped him and forced him bodily back up the stairs in a two step.

"Calm the fuck down. I need to talk to you. He's here about Sid, moron! Don't fuck this up."

Gray eyes blinked in consternation. "You really are as stupid as you look, right about now. I call you and this is what you bring! What about the drugs?"

Admon watched the iron grip of discipline warfare return to Donovan's stance as he faced down his mate and kept him in check.

Such idiotic fools, Admon thought oblivious to the fact that they had fleetingly gotten it right through selflessness.

Ominous clouds began to fill the skies anew, they were losing time.

Unfurling long sleeves the Karinese marched up the stairs with purpose past the duo looking on in shock at the shift from timidity to forceful presence in his stride. Admon gauged the darkened hallway before him, closing his eyes. He allowed his senses to lead him to the entity within slowly losing his mind.

"I believe your sibling is two flights up. Please remove your traps on the second floor, Guy or I will. It won't be liveable if I do."

Guy glared at the commanding tone, for the first time in the pit of his stomach, fear raised its head. Admon had been playing them both with his fawning ways all along. Nothing in that booming voice was meek. It wasn't just the hallways echo. In fact, the fucker was downright condescending in his veiled threat.

"I am here for my Master's peace of mind and to serve him, Guy. Your line means nothing to the eventual outcome we work towards. Do not try my patience."

"We?" Guy cracked his neck and narrowed his eyes, ill at ease at how easily the Karinese had taken command of the situation, "Who the fuck is we, Princess, your sister? Cause she I could do."

Admon turned and silently gazed at the male staring up at him in challenge as the door clanked shut behind Donovan. A slow malicious smile graced the android's face as he looked beyond Guy to Donovan and then back again, dark crimson eyes aglow.

"You will find out soon enough, Irrational One. Take your pleasures while you can, Guy. I have no need of Donovan for the interim. Use this time to placate one another's false hopes."

Warm paw-like hands held Guy in check once more as Admon continued to gracefully take the stairs. "Easy. He's just sayin' shit to piss you off, Guy. Think this once for fuck's sake!"

"Placate him with your body, if need be, Donovan. I imagine this can be achieved in under two minutes, with time to spare."

"Thaaat's it! " Guy took off at a run.

"Guy! Control yourself!" Donovan said, following, amazed at how speedy Bison's leader was when he was hell bent on revenge.

"Gonna beat the shit out of that fucker once and for all!"

"This is getting us nowhere, stop being so fuckin' selfish!"

Bison's leader screeched to halt and turned on the minder in blind fury. "Did you, or did you not hear what he just said about you?"

"Yes, Guy, I did and it doesn't matter, you of all people know better."

"Damn straight! I'm gonna make that cum sucking bitch take it back. Fuck Sid's psycho shit! I've had about enough of that droid's lip to last a lifetime!" Guy continued to march up the stairs in hot pursuit, the rifle butt held like a baseball bat.

Donovan cringed and passed thick fingers over his temples in defeat as he bemoaning his fate.

One blow job, okay an exceptional one, had caused him this grief. The minder realized he had been looking into questioning gray eyes all along.

"Move your ass, Donny Boy." Guy barked, slapping the gun in his callused palm, testing its weight, giving it a good swing to check for accuracy.

Kind of weird what you sometimes noticed in a moment, like the nice flow of strong muscles as they rippled beneath the thin white long sleeved t-shirt.

Guy really looked good all hot and bothered.

So much for talking, so much for undressing that fine leather clad ass and putting that mouth of his to good use.

Donovan blinked as he topped the stairs it suddenly occurred to him that Guy's hair was loose and not in its usual pony. It had brushed to radiant sheen and if the scent of his wake was anything to go by he had bathed before drowning himself in that cheap cologne.

**~~~BMR~~~**

"Why this one in particular, how is it relevant to the journal?"

Consciously controlling his breathing, the Elite refused to look at Katze as he poured generously from the decanter.

"Because it is my printed version of The Book of Origin as handed down by Jupiter to its learned. Look up Ceres."

Katze carefully flipped the pages, his index finger travelling to the word Ceres, as good a place to begin the discussion, since Raoul would insist on being honourable and boring allowing him to wander the study's library shelves before dinner now that his fit of pique was over.

He had been offering the damn Elite a blow job, not eternity. If he wanted to walk around half the night like he'd sustained a debilitating injury, far be it for him to stop the idiot.

"It says here it was once thought to be the eighth planet in the solar system of origin between Mars and Jupiter and was named after a Roman Goddess of grain and fertility."

Raoul stilled noting the mongrel's peculiar silence as he leaned against the shelves and hurriedly flipped the pages to a series of images with a grin.

"What's with the snakes wound around her arms, I thought she was a fertility Goddess?" Katze lips pursed as a thought occurred to him and he looked up from the page at the Elite who had sauntered to his side, brandy in hand.

"Call me crazy but it kind of looks like a helix, but that doesn't make sense. They wouldn't have known about that then. For all intents and purposes they were primitives. Look."

Now or never, the Blondie thought to share his bit of news and the reason he had even bothered to deter that delicious mouth from its previous goal.

"I don't need to, Katze. It is why I drew your attention to the volume in the first place."

The mongrel looked up, amber eyes bright with curiosity. "Any time now, Raoul, dying with suspense here," the redhead nudged the suddenly taciturn Elite with his shoulder companionably as he flipped the pages genuinely pleased to hold such a valuable volume filled with information, all be it fanciful rubbish akin to his sect's legend.

"Ceres is your maternal sir name, Katze."

Raoul caught the thick volume in time as it slipped from his mongrel's tenuous grasp.

"The irony has already struck me, too Katze. Instinctively, I had recently taken to calling you by the fanciful honorific befitting your line's station, even before I pieced it together. It was as if I knew, perhaps from the first moment I saw you."

A warm palm enveloped his jaw and stroked across the scarred cheek gently. "You are atypical amongst your kind, Katze. I have always known this."

Leaning into the welcomed touch, Katze sighed still speechless as he stared into verdant green intently gazing at him, gauging his response.

"The mythologies here are fanciful to be sure, but they served Jupiter's purpose. The young Elite mind in its formative development is a fragile thing. These stories give a sense of belonging, rather like what I believe were once called fairytales, when mankind was young and wholly illiterate requiring a rational for what they then called magic."

"Yes, go on."

"Jupiter found through trial and error these myths and tales exponentially increased our capacity to learn by fostering imagination, a fallback to our organic origins. Logic alone could not suffice in our development. In fact, the first of our kind reached rudimentary sentience but no further."

Katze nodded impishly. "Being tainted with our blood'll do that, Sir Am. We like tall tales."

Rather beautiful teeth gleamed in the low light. "You grow by imagining. The question What If, lies at the core of your species sentience. Through it, you build on dreams and make them real. Imagination is your fuel. It is what took you to the stars in the first place, along with greed, of course." Raoul winked, moderately amused by narrowed citrine eyes.

"Time's money, hasn't exactly hurt your kind either over the centuries, Sir Hypocrite."

"True."

The redhead felt the sudden tension in Raoul's grip as he eased his arms around lean flanks and soothingly caressed, hoping to stave the building disquiet he saw in the Elite's face, still caught by the thought that he finally had a name all his own.

"Do you remember the last time you were here, Katze?"

"How could I forget? I told you, etched in memory that."

"You have a one track mind at times, Katze. I meant the book you found by my bedroom's fireplace. Try to stay with me. I do have a point."

"Yeah and taking forever to get to it, spoilsport...fine. Go on. I'll shut it, Master Am."

"Where is all this delightful deference when actually needed, I wonder?"

The redhead's gaze grew distant and pensive as he tried to recall, the wry smirk still on his lips.

"Mmmm, you know, I think it was a medical journal of some kind, why?"

"The content, Katze, do you remember what page it was on?"

The dealer's gaze dimmed once again. "Anatomical depictions I think, maybe proto-types for your kind in development? Sorry didn't pay much attention. It was Donovan that proved more interested in the content and made mention of it later."

Raoul shook his head slowly. "No Katze. They were the prototypes that never got built, or so we thought until recently. One hundred percent organic, in fact, and not built by Dr Katzen Wolf, they came later and must have been after the accident described in your journal. All is beginning to make sense now. There is fact within your legend and ours, but not how either of us have previously perceived them to be. Only Jupiter truly knows what became of the three and perhaps one other."

"Sir Niiro." Katze murmured.

"Exactly."

Both jumped at the loud rap on the library door as the Sir Niiro swirled in unannounced closely followed by the gimlet eyed Furniture Deek.

"Well, well, well. What have we here? Celebrating are we? What's the occasion?" Sir Niiro said brightly, glaring daggers at the mongrel as he divested himself of voluminous cloak and gloves before handed them to the servant.

"Deek, be an absolute dear and make me that lovely concoction you invented all those years ago."

Coughing apologetically, the manservant bowed low in feigned apology. "Sir Niiro insisted it was an emergency, Sir Am. I thought it best to bring him through."

Katze snorted. "Of course you did. Try not to put arsenic in his drink, will you, Deek...dear?"

Sir Niiro beamed at all concerned, elegantly flopping on the couch while taking fastidious interest in the delicious assortment before delicately picking at a morsel. "Such a clever, Mongrel, no wonder you find him so entertaining, Raoul. Will he be giving us a show tonight? Or is that reserved for your eyes only, you naughty thing."

The arm about Katze's waist stilled as broad shoulders tensed.

"Niiro, why are you here?"

Casually examining the end of his braid, the Ruby sighed. "Why is that always the question everyone asks? One could easily begin to feel unwanted, such a bother. Deek dear, do see about the preparation. I am parched."

"Stay exactly where you are Deek, if you value your tenure in this household."

Stalemate, Katze wanted a graceful retreat but the arm about his waist became iron.

"Fine, then I shall make it myself. Would anyone care to join me? Your little mongrel looks in need of a good stiff one and by the looks of things he was well on his way to getting one too." Niiro chuckled, deeply amused by his own pun.

Was it Katze's imagination or was Raoul grinding his teeth?

**Author's Note**

Worked long and hard on this one. Let me know.

**EP**


	35. Chapter 34

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **34 of 37**

**Reviews are fuel.**

_"For our paths have crossed _

_And I may be hopelessly lost _

_But somehow _

_I've managed to find heaven."  
_

Fall In, (Eunice Kathleen Waymon) Nina Simone

**Chapter 34** of ? – Fall In (Post OVA)

How fitting to the current mood Katze thought. His eyes travelled to the windows where blinding, serrated flashes of lightning beckoned as it moved across the eerily violet sky. He felt the sonorous thunder through his bones and sinew punctuating the rare night time occurrence as the plexi flexed and trembled.

"Katze, you are shivering, why?" Raoul intoned, moving rapidly to his side, the brush of a wide palm at the small of his back.

The mongrel looked furtively to the couch where the Ruby was pointedly studying his glass of wine before shrugging.

"Old shit. Was caught out in that once back in the day at Guardian, not my idea of a good time, Sir Am."

Raoul nodded. "Inclemency is never favoured by anyone."

The Ruby chuckled indolently and tapped his glass, bringing two sets of hooded hate filled eyes his way.

"But you wear drowned rat so well, Katze, almost as if you were born to it."

"Niiro...I'm warning you." Raoul intoned through gritted teeth.

"You should know." Katze murmured diffidently as he turned to the seated Elite and narrowed amber orbs at the interloper. "Your men did a good job that night in beating the shit out of me and Katrina for daring to go beyond the grounds."

"Ahh, I see you have regained some of your memories. Excellent, hadn't anticipated that. I merely thought that loathing I see in your every glance a mere product of your caste."

"How is the dear little thing? Still in your inestimable employ no doubt living up to all her lovely potentiality as whore?"

Katze stiffened listening to the flat, indifferent retort. "Dead, but so is the asshole who killed her.

The Ruby nodded dispassionately, studying the mongrel over the rim of his glass.

"No doubt by your own fair hands? You always did have a wild streak. It really was best to mark you as Furniture material, kept you out of trouble at least for a little while."

"I don't do well with those who choose to take steps on my watch, Sir Niiro."

"Never did know when you were going to over-react to given stimuli, no doubt a flaw in your code's sequencing, that and your ever present curiosity with things that really should never concern one of your lowly birth."

Raoul strode forward, blocking the Ruby's view of the irritated mongrel.

"You would do well to finish your drink in silence while you await the return of your chauffeur, who seems to have conveniently found somewhere else to be. Deek is unable to raise him on the Com."

Katze snorted from behind, returning his gaze to the night sky. The light show and deep rolling thunder was moving towards Midas now. "Surprise, surprise, wonder how you managed that Sir Niiro, did you give him a specific hour to return?"

The Ruby shrugged unrepentantly, plastering a sweet smile on his face that never quite reached cold citrine eyes intently focussed on the redheaded mongrel's rigid back. The little bastard was clever, too clever by half. Just how much did he actually remember?

"Just can't hire good help these days, Raoul. I am quite content where I am at the moment, might even join you for dinner, if it is on offer."

"It isn't. In fact, please make an appointment the next time you deem it necessary to inflict your presence." Raoul hissed.

Sir Niiro blinked with feigned amusement as he pursed his lips. "Now I have annoyed you, dear boy. Do you still have it, I wonder?"

"Have what Niiro? Make sense!" Raoul snapped, growing more impatient with his presence by the moment.

"Why the portrait of course, Sir Am. One assumes it still holds a place in this household, away from prying eyes?"

Raoul's voice was muffled as he replied somewhat stiltedly, furtively noting where the dealer stood. "Yes it does and always will. Just a bit of imagining as you know, this was always encouraged by our tutors.

'Creativity being of equal import to that of logic," Sir Niiro recited in a monotonic voice clearly remembering the original speaker.

Katze's heart plummeted to his feet as his agile mind strove to maintain an indifferent expression but not soon enough, as pale amber darted towards him and narrowed in victory.

"I would venture to say, it is a perfect likeness actually," the Ruby added smugly, the intended barb reaching its mark. Oh he had seen the vague flick of limbs and the sudden set of pale jaw as Katze blinked rapidly before regaining that falsely indifferent mask as he turned his head intently listening to the private conversation.

"Oooooooooooooh too delightful for words," The Ruby drawled in a sing song tone, "Such a venomous expression, little mongrel. Sorry if I got there before this current little," pale lips curved into a pensive pout as he strove to find the right words and brightened as he found them, "abhorrent dalliance."

Raoul turned and studied Katze's expressionless face and thinned lips over one broad shoulder before rounding on his unwanted guest, who was looking entirely too pleased with himself and determined, as always, to make a spectacle.

"Niiro! That is quite enough. Keep your voice down!" Raoul quietly threatened.

'_Their voices had been sufficiently low, mongrel hearing at certain discrete decibels could, fortunately, be challenging at best. The stoic countenance he had observed simply spoke of intense loathing, nothing more.'_

"No point in looking now, Raoul. You missed it, dear boy."

The Blondie's neck stiffened. "I'm warning you..."

"Synapses were firing left right and centre as your pathetic little object of lust tried to regain a semblance of composure when I mentioned that exquisite portrait of me. One might even say, the little vermin was showing a smidge of jealousy.

Raoul coughed, uncomfortably colouring in the silence that followed, feeling Katze's eyes upon his broad back.

"As I said, Sir Niiro a flight of fancy and not worthy of further mention if you please, you are intentionally attempting to goad my guest. Modify your tone."

Sir Niiro shifted on the couch and stretched a long arm over the back of it, long fingers tapping out an internal beat against the soft velvety material as he snorted inelegantly.

"Guest?"

Sir Niiro inclined his head and looked amusedly down the crystal glass balanced playfully on one crossed knee. Slowly flat amber looked back up into pinpoint irises ablaze with pent anger and held them.

"Is that what they are calling it these days, but then you of all people wouldn't wish this little indiscretion to get out and soil your hallowed reputation? We all have wondered endlessly what possessed you to get rid of your own Pets shortly after encountering this wretched little beast you seem bound and determined to dance attendance upon."

"Niiro..." Raoul murmured in a warning tone, stepping closer to the bane of his existence threateningly.

The Ruby waved dismissively at the glowering Blondie.

"Temper, temper, my error of course, let us put it down to that sincerest form of flattery nonsense, but do answer one question, Raoul dear."

Sir Niiro's eyes darted to the stiff shouldered lithe being with a meditative moue about his perfect lips as he sipped, suddenly enjoying how the game had turned in his favour. Katze had been slowly edging closer, determined to eavesdrop, no longer caring at being obvious. The wide expansive windows showcasing the storm without had apparently lost their appeal to the growing storm within the confines of the luxurious abode.

He could feel Katze's hackles rising; truly delicious; war having been subtly declared in twinned amber glares locked and loaded.

Pale thinned lips turned up at their corners as Sir Niiro's eyes narrowed, a slight tremor entering his form as adrenalin began to flow through the coiled muscles of his limbs.

Katze's smirking eyes followed leisurely the path of Sir Niiro's gaze to the lining of the right sleeve.

The irony of the moment struck him then as the smile slowly faded, looking at the pale well muscled lean forearms of the mongrel folded across his chest, revealing the coil of loose silken sleeves.

Raoul had made a choice.

Oh yes, war had been declared alright, time to up the ante.

"Is he any good? Obviously attractive in a wholly common way, but he looks rather reedy, in my opinion. He couldn't possibly have the stamina required to satisfy your passions once unleashed."

Irritably, Raoul flashed even white teeth as he stalked to the couch and glared down at Niiro. "You are bound and determined to make a fool of yourself, here. To what end?"

Uncaring of the censure, the Ruby continued glancing beyond Raoul's shoulder.

"Ahhh yes, I remember it well. You were rather inspired that night, after that hateful do at Iason's where that wretched creature got his comeuppance from those tiresome off-world miscreants."

Sir Niiro winked at Raoul who was having none of it as he bent and took a flexed bicep about to pull the Ruby to his feet. "You are going!"

On silent feet Katze approached the two Elites with a speculative expression affixed to his perfectly imperfect face, a wan smile playing about thinned lips. He remembered that night alright. It had changed his life in more ways than one.

Katze turned to Raoul and bowed deeply. "Please forgive me, Sir Am, but I must interject."

Raoul inclined his head, somewhat suspicious of the slow pivot on one heel that Katze made within seconds of the apology. He heard the sharp intake of breath too late as the dealer rounded on the Ruby as he was shoved bodily back down into the couch.

"How the fuck would you know anything about it, Sir Narcissistic Shit? In case you missed it, sex is about your partner's enjoyment in equal measure to that of your own, but I doubt that would occur to you what with all the preening and self satisfied bullshit you go on with in preparation for your three minutes of glory."

Raoul turned and glared at the mongrel standing by his side, momentarily nonplussed by the dealer's directness and secretively pleased by the possessive stance taken. This was a different side of Katze. Still, he needed to take control of the moment. It could well get out of hand and not to the mongrel's benefit.

"That is quite enough, Katze. It is not your place to speak to my fellow Elite in so disrespectful a manner. Apologize immediately to Sir Niiro for this breach."

The Ruby assumed a put upon expression, impish amber eyes, the colour of a winter sun rise, pinning the mongrel with laser like precision as they narrowed in glee, waiting patiently for the dealer's response.

None came.

Katze felt in his pocket for the old style matches to light the cigarette that he placed between his lips.

Silently he gazed back at Raoul as he inhaled before exhaling the richly scented plume, removing the lit filter tipped cigarette from his lips with furrowed brows as he mirrored Sir Niiro's expression to a fault, bright cognac coloured eyes locked with that of soulless amber in hate.

"You know, just doesn't add up, Sir Am. Still don't get it; must be fuckin' huge though."

Katze no longer looked aggravated and that was a relief to the Blondie and yet he remained stand offish in how he regarded him, pale eyes usually liquid and warm watched him with cool surmise as he inhaled slowly.

"What are you talking about, Katze?"

The hand that touched the Elite's face was gentle as it brushed back the self willed lock of silk behind his ear contemplatively.

"Whatever he's got on both you and his Excellency; all I can figure is it started in adolescence. Something you all did and or witnessed. Something you all basically know and would ill affect your almighty maker's version of the universe. It's big that's all I know, maybe even bigger than me cracking those files way back then."

Katze visibly softened as he felt Raoul subconsciously lean into his touch, while watching his face intently, dark emerald warming markedly in their appraisal. The mongrel smiled wistfully though his gaze remained distant in thought as he continued, gathering strength from the simple touch as his hand moved to his own cheek.

"Maybe even bigger than my own little reality check that day when Iason gifted me with this," long, expressive fingers outlined the scar affectionately. "It began my own journey of understanding and reckoning. The moment I fell from his grace."

Raoul paled visibly at the casual truth spoken.

'_Where had he heard that phrase before? Had it been a dream? No, it had been Admon's room while with Kato and that music box.'_

Katze's gaze drifted to the Ruby as he nodded contemplatively. "Thought as much, he's been using it ever since."

Sir Niiro huffed and adjusted his dark plumage nervously. "Shut him up Raoul, before I do. _Pas avant les domestiques, _Raoul. I will not suffer any further insults from the likes of this..."

"If you really didn't want his sorry, affected ass here, he'd be tossed off the balcony _toute suite_, am I right?" Okay so it was childish but rather enjoyable that sharp gasp as the redheaded bastard realized that Katze had understood the alien reference, even by the subtle interjection of the ancient tongue.

Raoul stifled the grin that wanted to come to his face as he leaned down and kissed the chattering lips in question. He really should not be proud of Katze, but he was. Those soft lips imparted a smoky flavour, not unpleasant; interesting. Most delightful this touching of lips, extraordinarily intimate and an excellent way to close the astute conjecture before it went too far.

Truth was in order.

"Something along those lines yes, Katze. In fact, it has much to do with both the portrait and the item I was to share before our evening was so...rudely interrupted."

Katze smiled, his peripheral vision noting the Ruby had drawn his frame into a tightly coiled ball of anger as he studied the pair with growing envy dripping from every pore. It was dishonourable to kick a man when he was down, but then the Ruby wasn't actually a man, Katze mused abstractedly.

"Cause you don't lust after him, I know that much. He hasn't anything you want otherwise you wouldn't have chosen me to bed. He's been here for awhile now, sniffing around your crotch for days. Sure he is exquisite, but which of you isn't? You're supposed to be that way, the culmination of Jupiter's fanciful leanings of what she wanted for our next step in evolution, if Dr Katzen's journals are anything to go by. No exceptions, Raoul."

The dealer's eyes narrowed as he looked to the shocked Ruby's white countenance.

"No middle ranking Elite of the Ruby caste, regardless of scientific acumen, would be allowed such liberties otherwise."

"You should see about having your little feline declawed, Raoul. He oversteps and you continue to allow it."

Sir Niiro rose abruptly and launched himself at the smaller male before a broad palm stopped his progress, shoving him effortlessly back onto the couch.

"Sit."

"Unhand me, Raoul! Our esteemed leader shall hear of this travesty!"

"Like he gives a shit," Katze murmured under his breath.

Sir Niiro blanched and shot his ample sleeves.

"Katze! I command you to be silent! Stop baiting him!"

This was entirely unseemly and the mongrel did have a point, but he would not give him the satisfaction.

"Raoul, how could you and for that mongrel filth? Are you that desperately perverse? It was bad enough when Iason took that creature to his bed, Pet indeed. It was clear to us all what was going on there once he refused to show him. Now this, are you to follow in his footsteps? Have you no pride of place? He is Furniture and always will be!"

Katze stood his ground glaring over Raoul's shoulder at the thoroughly incensed Elite. He tried to sidestep Raoul but was stopped abruptly by a hard body as Raoul turned his fury onto the equally livid redhead, who had clearly lost his reason if the glowing embers he had for eyes was anything to go by.

The dealer hissed, uncaring about the possible outcome of his impudence. "Command my ass! I know what you are about to do after this so I don't actually give a shit. You'll all close ranks! Go ahead and report me to his Excellency. All I know is that bitch keeps referring to me as mongrel in that tone of his and I am not going to take it tonight, regardless of what is done to me. It'll be worth it."

"See, just like the other two test subjects. Just hid it better than that wretched Guy and that dark infidel Iason took up with. I rue the day I discovered the isolates that brought forth the wretched creatures from stasis. They should have died like the rest of that motley crew, left for dead on Remus."

He was faster than he looked, Raoul thought, misjudging the next step the mongrel took as he feigned to the left then jumped on the Ruby determined to strangle him.

For the first time in Raoul's life his eyes became large green pools.

What disturbed him most, however, was the pride he felt in the pit of his gut at such an evasive and wholly successful ruse. Still, he had to stop this, Nii Nii might hurt him and then that would bring on an entirely unforeseen and probably fatal outcome for the Ruby.

Not desirable at the moment. Then there would be the task of explaining the inopportune dispatching of the thorn in their respective sides. In the practical sense, he still had a few questions to put to the Ruby, particularly with the new revelation. He needed him in an amicable mood to get the truth in all its detail.

"Bring it, Bitch!" Katze rasped, struggling and losing manfully at his intended task. A nice length of leg though. Such beautiful skin, truly pearlescent, particularly now that blood flow was at premium as adrenalin coursed through his veins.

Oh dear. Must intervene, things were getting dicey. Raoul sighed passing long fingers through thick golden waves in frustration while studying the ridiculous tableau.

"Die! Damn you! Die! You filthy mongrel! How dare you touch my person with your disgusting little hands, who knows where they have been recently?"

Despite being held down and almost effectively smothered by the Ruby's greater body mass, his Katze managed to utter rather personal and somewhat lewd sentiments.

"Smell um, if you like. Lick 'em even. Might just come back to you what you've been missing."

Raoul sighed again, studying the current contortion of both bodies and carefully avoiding flailing limbs. Calmly Raoul shifted a few of the edibles on the low table and sat, crossing his legs.

They really were extraordinarily flexible considering. Of course he had noticed their striking physical similarity. Even their temperaments really, but there was something ineffably attractive about the visceral way in which Katze was attempting, albeit crudely, to defend his territory; in fact, stirring in more ways than one.

Absently Raoul made a mental note about hormones and their psycho sexual effects. Right now for example, he really did wish to pull Nii Nii off Katze, but mainly in order to take command of the current situation and haul the mongrel off to the bedroom, skipping dinner in its entirety.

Fascinating, perhaps an element of study with careful application in the years to come. The occasional aiding and abetting of the odd fracas with his mongrel for this exacting effect upon his person; exceedingly stimulating, indeed.

Sharp green eyes were somewhat hooded as they gazed at Katze's flushed face. As to be expected, his mongrel was on the losing end of the deal, but was struggling on, though obviously winded.

Excellent tactic to utilize Niiro's virulent red braid as a tourniquet about his throat, but alas, it was not having the desired effect.

Pale brows knitted in thought. Not enough pectoral strength or leverage, but a damn good effort nonetheless considering the Ruby now had Katze's head clasped between his knees and was for all intents and purposes squeezing the life out of his mongrel.

'_Three taken out of stasis? He had been told by Niiro none of the cryogenically preserved specimens had survived the attempt at regeneration. Something about missing aspects of their encoded DNA structure. Had he lied? Were there others of the First Ones progeny still trapped on Remus? It explained the mongrels in question atypical behaviour patterns and why they rose through their own ranks.'_

Katze began to growl, cheeks a deep rich crimson from the strain of effort as he tried to dislodge the heavier framed being to no avail. The redhead managed a quick glance at his Blondie.

"A little ...help...here..." the dealer said haltingly through gritted teeth.

Raoul smiled vaguely, finding a suitable solution that would not break a sweat and might, just might, address something Katze had said earlier while giving Sir Niiro his walking papers, finally allowing them both to get on with their evening in a more, amenable fashion.

"The portrait was inspired by you, Katze. Not Niiro, though he was the initial sitting subject. Subconsciously, and in truth, aggravatingly that portrait is what I imagined you would be, if born of the brethren Elite. I actually began it, the first day we met. Niiro is the stand in."

Silence...palpable indeed, but silence, well, other than Katze making undignified hacking sounds as Sir Niiro, levered himself off the panting mongrel and righted himself, staring daggers down at the seated Blondie, who looked up at him dispassionately.

"You remember it well, don't you Nii-Nii? You made reference to it, a few moments ago. Never wonder what possessed me that night and who was fucking whom by proxy. I believe it is rather self evident."

Katze jumped at the echoing within the still room as Raoul's cheek was slapped and his neck twisted with the kinetic force of the blow. Raoul smiled up at the Ruby when he slowly turned back to face his attacker.

"Good night, Nii Nii. We will speak in the morning. Find somewhere else to be for the remainder of the evening.

Pulled back his forearm with venom, Sir Niiro prepared to strike again.

Raoul rose to his full formidable height, pale eyes challenging. "You only get one, Nii Nii for honours sake."

Livid amber glared into calm, cold ice green, daring him in challenge. "Leave. I really can't be bothered to explain to Iason as to why your corpse was found outside in the rain, broken and battered. He does so hate spectacles as we both know."

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon hovered over the still sweating form at rest, cradling the under nourished body to him with a satisfied smile. Sid would sleep now, despite the crackle of thunder overhead. It would continue to hover here the light of lightning like a sentinel over its burden and the source of its greatest fear finally realized from the least of the tribe.

It could do nothing now but wait, excising its fury in torrents of freezing rain and blades of light that lit the dark, murky corners of Ceres, frightening its denizens impotently while beckoning its first born to communion.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Iason dressed in silence, ignoring the mongrel's watchful gaze while Cal straightened and adjusted his cuffs seamlessly over pristine white gloves.

He flexed long, agile fingers within the constricting garment of mandatory dress, understanding for the first time as he studied his hands their true purpose – not a mark of distinction, but that of separation.

A layer designed to dull the rudimentary sensation of touch, something Jupiter was incapable of understanding. No wonder Riki instinctively loathed being touched while they were on. So basic a creature craved warmth, even from the one he feigned to despise when it suited his need to rebel and yet, in the quiet space of night that body moved towards his when he thought the Blondie asleep. Carefully, gently Riki smoothed fingers over his skin, examining his hair and studying his form with furrowed sable brows, confusion evident in that distant gaze.

"So you're going?"

The head of Syndicate inclined his head to the Furniture. Cal bowed deeply closing the bedroom door behind him as he left.

Iason turned to the figure in the bed. Riki looked ridiculously small at the moment as lightning flashed burnishing the warm skin of his torso, the handsome face beset with confusion and fear.

"I have no choice, Riki. Something has changed in the call."

The mongrel shrugged, throwing off the covers as he stood and stretched carefully, sharp dark eyes still worried. "Whatever. Gonna go stir crazy in here, listening to myself breathe, at least you're company."

Pale ice blue eyes sparked with understanding and vague hope. "You are feeling better, Riki?"

Diffidently the mongrel raised his chin and glared. "I didn't say that, but I'm bored. Can I go visit Katze if Cal takes me to Ceres?"

"On this night of all nights? I think not, Riki. I want you here, safe and further more Katze is otherwise engaged with Sir Am or so I have been informed by Cal."

"Katze always said it was speedier than any interstellar repeater link."Riki snorted, bending over to stretch his supple form with a grimace. "I need to work out these kinks. Go if you're going."

He felt the warmth, that preternatural warmth approaching and he opened his eyes, studying the immaculately booted feet whose toe tips were within centimetres of his. He smiled at the familiar sensation of cool strands caressed his forearms.

Iason bent and regarded him with a quizzical look.

"The Furniture gossip link, Iason. What happens in Eos Towers might stay in Eos Towers, but oh damn, that walk of shame is going to be hell for Katze in the morning with all those eyes."

"Really, Riki, the things you say sometimes." Iason huffed and straightened, gloved hands taking that of his and righting him. "If you are feeling sufficiently well enough to raise such conjecture, you are well enough to eat in the dining room with me upon my return. Perhaps you might find something engaging on the vid link, or one of those puerile games you favour might prove diverting curing you of this 'stir' you spoke of?"

Despite the convoluted manner of delivery, Riki understood the attempt to appease him.

"Yeah, we'll see. Try not to be too late. I've a bone to pick with you but it can wait."

"A Bone? I do not wish to pick at the remains of your food, Riki, however congenial you might find this act."

Riki sighed sometimes it just wasn't worth explaining. He tipped up on his toes, placing his unshaven face next to the smooth hot cheek.

Iason's body grew instantly rigid, but he did not move, still crouching to accommodate the ungainly pose. Self consciously the mongrel pulled away, passing his fingers through his hair and shrugged before placing his hands against the resilient heat of Iason's chest with a gentle shove.

The eyes looking back at him were almost warm with the slight dilation of pupils.

Riki was the first to look away. This was uncharted territory. For three days, the Blondie had kept vigil with him. Cared for his needs without question, even dismissive of Cal at bath times, preferring to perform the task of ablution for his mongrel himself. This had to be a side effect of all that fucking nurturing shit.

'_Get a grip, idiot. He's still a Blondie, the Blondie for fuck's sake.'_

"Come back in one piece."

Iason nodded slowly and headed for the door, pausing briefly to take one last lingering look at the exquisite mongrel looking back at him with the usual confused fury and conflict evident in dark intelligent eyes.

"Shave." Iason commanded.

Fortunately for both concerned, speed and dexterity was inherent in the enhanced and had the added benefit of allowing, due to the inclement weather without, selective hearing or the lack there of.

Just this once, there would be no need to correct the behaviour displayed, Iason thought overhearing an object connecting with the door frame as he closed it.

His mongrel was indeed feeling more himself.

Now for Jupiter's call, he thought touching his cheek with gloved hand, still warmed by the touch of that unshaven cheek.

**Author's Note**

You know this chapter is longer, but these pivotal moments told me they were to stand alone and so, sometimes less is more. Don't be surprised if another chapter appears over this delightful long Labour Day weekend. As always, it is my sincere hope that you enjoyed. Let me know.

Namaste

**EP**


	36. Chapter 35

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **35 of 37**

**Reviews are fuel.**

_"Forgiveness is the scent that the violet leaves on the heel that crushes it."  
_

Anon

_This chapter is dedicated to the lovely __**NoChick**__ for her inspired query about my version of the beloved Katze. Because of her I now have a stunning portrait of him for posterity done by __**Tata, **__a name that is familiar to anyone in the AnK fandom. _

_But I digress. Long after this tale has ended and that of its little follow up dedicated to Iason and Riki titled the __**Ties that Bind **__(Iason/Riki piece), are done, I will have this masterful portrait. __**No Chick**__ inspired it and I will always, always be thankful for her grace and her kind gift of encouragement and for being the muse that fostered it._

**Chapter 35** of 37 – **Forgiveness** (Post OVA)

Robe tied strategically about his waist, Katze winced when applying the cold compress on his shoulder. Adjusting the mirror he examined his other bruises through a haze of smoke, his eyes narrowing upon seeing the Elite's reflection intently watching him.

"Remind me never to have you as backup in a fight, Sir Am."

"I see we have reverted to calling me, Sir Am." Raoul snorted at the back handed insult. His eyes passed over the deceptively willowy frame. Nothing broken, a few minor contusions but nothing rest would not cure, considering the mongrel's preternatural ability to heal.

"Jupiter forbids you should break a sweat or extend yourself while Sir Jerk-Off tried to strangle me," Katze mumbled around the lit cigarette, one eye pinched shut avoiding the smoke.

It was an art form keeping the cigarette just so and continuing to speak unimpeded. Never once did the rapidly diminishing filter give off ash, except when the mongrel bit the tip between perfectly even white teeth and twiddled his lips; fascinating.

Raoul grew pensive watching the careful ministrations, never once offering aid, he knew would be rebuffed on principle. Still angry and confused, Raoul thought propping himself against the bathroom door watching the protracted examination Katze gave to his own long elegant neck.

Katze was making an excessive production of this, just to avoid speaking to him directly. He was afraid.

Long dexterous fingers flexed about the soft washcloth ringing it dry before dabbing at the perfectly imperfect face.

He had always wondered at the mongrel's remarkable ability to heal, and for that matter Riki's. From what Sir Niiro had intimated there could well be a biological reason. Still, it was only theory, a theory well worth pursuing if he could get the original medical documentation secreted by the Ruby. It could wait until morning and with luck and politesse he would be able to finagle more details out of the Sir Niiro.

Raoul nodded to himself, lips curved into a pensive moue.

By then cooler heads would prevail. Nii Nii was above all else highly mercurial and given to rapidly shifting emotions. With luck he would meet with his alter ego and if not, well, perhaps it was time to face things. They had both matured and still held that commonality for knowledge.

"Katze, you have sustained greater injuries in your professional dealings in the Black Market. These marks are inconsequential. You know I would never have allowed him to damage you irreparably. Do stop pouting like a juvenile."

The redhead glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the Elite in a less than favourable manner.

"You were enjoying it. I could tell."

"This is ridiculous."

"I know the signs of arousal in you, Raoul. Pupils dilated. Breathing hard, cheeks flushed not to mention you were practically salivating at the prospect..."

"Come here, Katze!" Raoul commanded.

"No!"

Exasperated, Raoul fully entered the room, crossing long arms across his chest, pinning the mongrel with a white hot glare. "This is unbecoming and unacceptable. I command you to stop this pathetic attempt at displacement. You brought this upon yourself."

The dealer stubbed out the cigarette and ruffled his hair irritably. "If it's okay with you, Sir Am, I'd rather return to my namesake tonight."

"No!"

"What the hell do you mean by, no?"

Taking a long breath and stifling the urge to retaliate for the tone, Raoul began slowly approaching the beyond irritated dealer scowling at him.

"Katze, please, instead of running away to lick your wounds in private, remain here."

The dealer uttered a self deprecating chuckle and untied the knotted sleeves about his waist. He shrugged them back on over his arms giving a little more care to the affected shoulder as he adjusted the compress beneath the robe. Eyes at half mast, he studied the Elite in the mirror.

"Has it occurred to you yet that I just want away from you and your kind for a bit?"

Raoul staved off the urge to recoil caught off guard and somewhat stung by the revelation. The arms that had been moving outward to encompass the mongrel before him, slowly lowered to his sides self-consciously.

The wry smile playing about Katze's lips took in the balled fists.

"It's not personal, Raoul Am. I don't know what to make of what I have learnt tonight. I need some down time."

Raoul thought to press his point, that distant gaze Katze was giving him did not bode well. He was trying to retreat emotionally. He would not allow it.

"This environment is infinitely more conducive to objective thought and conversation." Even to his ears, his rationale sounded weak.

Katze shook his head and sighed, cocking his head to one side and regarded the Elite before carefully moving toward the still, elegant figure whose intent gaze held a modicum of fear.

Gently Katze cupped Raoul's face, the sad smile softening about its edges.

"I'm not rejecting you, Raoul. It would be like rejecting a part of me. You have been a large part of me most of my adult life."

"Katze...I..."

He felt the pads of those fingers cover his lips, biding silence. Katze needn't have bothered. The gentleness in his expression as he regarded Raoul without guile was unprecedented, clenching the Elite's heart and stilling his breath.

"I've hated you something fierce at times, even now really because I know I will surrender to your wishes, like a God damn Pet. I never thought I could have something as perfect as you, so I sublimated with things. Rare things that I could have for myself, by myself, nothing anyone could ever take from me."

Really, there was nothing to do but smile and so Raoul did.

"You really are astonishingly beautiful at times Raoul Am, but no. Lose the angelic look. I do my best thinking alone, always have. When it comes right down to it, I am alone in this and I have others that depend on me."

Large well proportioned hands smoothed over skin warmed silk soothingly, pulling the mongrel firmly against his chest meeting with a modicum of resistance.

"More reason to stay. To be reminded that you have never been alone."

"No."

"Why? We have much to discuss, to share. I too have confessions, perhaps not the ones you intrinsically want to hear, but rather emotive and embarrassing ones pertaining to your person the first time I saw you."

Another sigh as the redhead averted his gaze and coiled himself about the Elite, choosing to lay his head upon Raoul's chest with a soft groan of frustration. The heartbeat was strong and reassuring as was the warmth of his Elite. He breathed him in.

"You smell good, you feel good that's why I can't stay. Not going to surrender to temptation."

Not exactly the most logical of reasons, Raoul mused, caressing the taut back muscles, gratified when they slowly began to relax beneath his touch and the warm breath fanning the skin of his chest became even. "Thank you, I think?"

"In your arms it is too easy to forget we are enemies Sir Am."

"But we are not. We are more alike than you think if reason serves and if that inkling I am having proves right."

Katze looked up, fatigue evident in his eyes as he weighed Raoul's querulous expression with furrowed brows.

"Right now that brain of yours is trying to work out the next move. The next counter to my argument, you just don't understand or won't accept facts, is more like."

"Because your logic eludes me, Katze, you confound me and again you are not listening."

Raoul felt the familiar tug of silken strands, watching as Katze coiled a length of gold about long fingers and studied them absently.

"Think about it. Never mind Sir Shit Box for a minute and his ridiculous experiments on the Guardian brood. We were just fodder to be exploited."

Raoul passed the back of his hand over the fine boned cheek, lifting the not so stubborn chin to plant a chaste kiss upon soft parted lips. It was gratifying to feel the shiver that passed through Katze's body when his head lifted to gaze into limped pools of deep cognac.

"I am, Katze."

He was so readable, when you knew how to observe. Within the blink of an eye, his mongrel had lowered his lids, shunning the intimacy of the probing gaze that held him silent and close.

"Go on. This is where you tell me what I'll be missing aside from a good lay if I leave."

The Elite tightened his firm grasp of the fragile body, almost absorbing, crushing it subconsciously attempting to meld with it. With his chin atop the auburn head, Raoul began to smile. He was winning, not by force but simple persuasion.

"Well, you would be missing a fine meal for one."

Katze murmured unintelligibly against his chest. Perhaps food was not the best incentive under the circumstances.

"Then there is the added delight of musical accompaniment now that I have come to understand the rudimentary mechanics of that monstrosity you so covet."

The dealer raised his head, "You planning on giving that back to me any time soon? It is mine, you know? Bought and paid for."

Passing his fingers gently through cool silken strands, Raoul affected annoyance.

"Be quiet, I am not finished."

Katze snorted. "Well excuse the hell outta me, Sir Am. What was I thinking interrupting the great Blondie and his diatribe on the merits of epicurean delights and suspect audio recordings from a time long past."

Gathering his thoughts Raoul continued. "Where was I? Oh yes and then stimulating conjecture over port and of course starlight and relative peace for one night before the clarion call of change takes us into the dawn."

An auburn brow quirked in obvious disagreement, though the body in question slid sinuously closer and exhaled contentedly, the mongrel almost purring as he spoke.

"Reality check, Raoul Am, poetic license notwithstanding, you and me naked in the same bed conversing rationally? When in Jupiter's name has that ever happened? Usually by now one of us would have laid some serious pipe up the others fine..."

"Katze...now really there is no call for so base an analogy."

Undaunted by the attempt at censure, the dealer continued, "ass at least once and while the other was busy recovering what was left of his sanity, the other would be busy working out another variation on the theme."

"Yes, there is some validity to the points posed. I believe you would call that chemistry, hardly a deterrent to _eventual_ cogent thought."

Katze's warm breath ghosted across the skin of Raoul's chest as the mongrel tightened his hold about his waist, lost in his own ramblings.

"Not to mention we'd scare the shit out of your Deek who'll probably have called security cause he thinks his chaste Master's being murdered in his bed by the debauched mongrel."

A golden brow quirked in censure, Katze remained undeterred.

"That doesn't leave much time for all that stimulating conjecture, now does it, when they haul me off for despoiling his Master's virtue?"

The corners of Raoul's lips quirked in amusement, Mongrel's and their colourful euphemisms for coitus, aside from being crude, were exceedingly imaginative.

"How exactly is this laying of pipe a negative, Katze? I find it most relaxing and conducive to sleep."

"My point exactly, along with the snoring."

"My septum is perfectly aligned, speak for yourself, Mongrel."

Katze looked up with feigned irritation at his arguments being countered effortlessly before returning his head to the broad chest in defeat. They really did fit so well together.

"You're not helping matters, Sir Wiseass. No one said I didn't want it. Crave it. Need it, even. I just can't think logically with you so close, Raoul. I need control or at least the illusion of it."

"Then have that illusion by my side and just to clarify, you are the one given to impromptu vocalizations in this pairing."

"Thank you for that bit of irrelevant detail, Raoul Am." Katze retorted indignantly, attempted to pull away from the embrace to glower up into highly amused green.

"You don't get it, do you? This is all intellectual abstraction to you. My world has just exploded in my face, Raoul. Theory just became fact and now, I've got to fucking figure out how to deal with it and for that matter you and where we, and this thing we got going, fit in this crap shoot."

Raoul lowered his head and tightened his hold about the sinewy form that clung to him, pressing his lips atop the cool auburn head.

"Fears when shared are nullified, Katze. Deal with them in my arms. To your point, I have self control enough for both."

Bawdy laughter reverberated from Katze's chest, sending a shiver through the Elite's body.

The amber pools looking up at him sparkled with mischief. Truly he could drown in the depths of unspoken affection laced with lust he saw there.

"Speak for yourself. I have plans, Sir Am. A mongrel's gotta mark his territory."

"These plans you have, do they involve the laying on of pipe and general despoiling?" Raoul queried with mock seriousness in his gaze.

"See, clever as the day is long." Katze winked, gently releasing his hold from about Raoul's waist but not before giving a resounding pinch to the Elite's posterior, "and here I thought you were just a pretty face, more fool me and in point of fact you do snore, Sir Am."

Raoul blanched. No one, but no one had ever dared.

A soft apologetic cough from the bedroom door brought both around. Deek averted his gaze from the quiet intimacy he saw in front of him.

"Dinner is served, Sir Am, in the study as you requested."

Raoul inclined his head, one hand decorously pointing the way for Katze, while the other smoothed over his abused cheek. He really should not have been aroused by that, but he was.

Deek's dark brown eyes locked with the mongrel's own briefly.

"Deeeeeeek..." Katze intoned warningly as he passed him.

The same could not be said for his Master who chose to ignore his presence. The Furniture was grateful he had observed nothing salacious in their deportment towards one another and yet, he felt bemused and discontented.

Sir Niiro had failed as was evidenced by the worrying sight of their companionable gait, the Master a solicitous step behind his mongrel, broad palm placed at the small of the dealer's back ushering him forward.

Peace and affection. Not something he thought he would ever witness in this cerebral abode.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon wondered in passing at the attraction those two held for one another. He felt like an intruder seated in the rear of the vehicle as they quietly drove back to the club.

It has been most edifying watching Guy shift uncomfortably in the passenger seat, turning on occasion to glare at him for good measure; just to keep in practice. That one had excellent instincts for survival, but Admon also felt curiosity coming off the chestnut haired mongrel in waves.

Guy was intrinsically aware of his duality, unlike Donovan who simply feared the unknown.

Interesting, the Irrational One was so easily riled but not even he understood why, a part of him long forgotten perhaps, forsaken in lieu of reactivity to given stimulus. Now all his instincts were honed to simply survive, forgetting his original intellectual gifts and ability to perceive.

It was cruel to be sure but, like now, a simple smile always proved his undoing, until the creature finally twigged that he was being played by the Karinese.

Did Donovan actually realize what he had in Guy? He was a far more difficult read as a mortal. An intense sense of loyalty too, but it was learnt not instinctual like Guy's, but then his kind had been breed for service, not so the chestnut haired mongrel whose intellect had been dulled by circumstance.

Idly Admon glanced out the smoked windows at the passing vista, returning his thoughts to his chosen Master and his paramour, Raoul Am, another set almost foiled by circumstance.

Dark ruby eyes returned their focus to that of the bodyguard, ignoring Bison's glaring leader intently watching him in the rear view for any sudden moves.

This had not been a good day for the bodyguard, trust was something earned. Katze giving this Elite his favour was unconscionable to the minder's simplistic view of order. It was almost unforgivable.

Admon's lips thinned.

How much of that was latent jealousy and equally how much a vying for dominance of positioning within the fold?

Admon curled his slipper clad feet up on the seating and pondered this as the streets gradually became well lit and filled with plain clothes security details the closer they came to the club.

His Master's hand was in this as was the running water kiosks so prized by those who could not afford it in their dwellings beyond the rationed, medicated variety that fowled their food stuffs and drink, rendering them barren, impotent and short lived.

Ruby eyes looked upward at the receding cloud cover, a half smile playing about his lips as the moons shun down once more on the streets casting a pewter glow upon its wet surface.

"Change his water rations going forward, Donovan. Use the kiosks instead that the Master provides. The medication is in conflict with his system, hence the..." Admon paused, "illusions."

"Shut the fuck up! Do I look like I'm made of money, asshole?" Guy snarled, glad of something to vent his spleen on, cause this entire ride had felt eerie with Asswipe giving him that know it all fuckin' look every time he turned around.

"Guy," Donovan retorted with a long suffering sigh, "enough already. Let him speak."

Bison's leader whirled on the minder, whose rigid set of jaw bespoke challenge.

"What the fuck? Don't listen to him. It's more fuckin' expensive than rancid gutter stout! What difference will it make? So what if he fucking thinks he's in a freakin cell being slowly starved to death on a distant moon or wherever the fuck he thinks he is? The drugs work fine. Stick to that."

The vehicle lurched to an abrupt halt.

"None of your business, Guy, he's my baby brother."

The minder looked in the rear view mirror for a long moment, catching the crimson eyes that bore into him as Guy continued to curse even more volubly at being ignored by the like minded duo.

Admon inclined his head subtly before returning to his gaze to the night.

They were close now. Even from this distance he could see the ancient neon sign lit just above the doorway.

_"Extreme pleasure governs life and death."_

How like his Master was the inert gas which secreted its powers to light until fuelled by the movement of the invisible electrodes that lay otherwise dormant in the delicate glass filament that held it captive; force was everything when applied judiciously, even at the subatomic level bringing the most vibrant of hues to life.

He could only hope Raoul finally understood his purpose and what he must protect before his call came, because it would soon come.

Secretively Guy watched the irritating half smile returning to Admon's lips in the side mirror. He hated that otherworldly look, almost as if the fucker knew something and wasn't about to share.

_What was with the removing of one glove?_

Admon was jolted from his internal reverie by suddenly cold air wafting through the opened rear door before scuffed boots met his sight.

"Out! We're here, Pretty Boy. Make yourself scarce before I wipe that smile off your face."

Dark merlot slowly looked up into the harsh furtive countenance and smiled before alighting from the vehicle, his ungloved fingers touching the hand atop the door in passing.

Guy wanted to recoil from the cold inhuman touch and the terrifying eyes that bore into him as Admon rose gracefully and exited the vehicle heading for the guarded stairs that lead down into _Depraved_.

It could not have been more than a few seconds of contact, Donovan thought staring over the hard top at Guy's ashen face. The kid was shivering visibly while examining his own gloved hand in disbelief.

"Forgive yourself, Guy. He has." Admon said without turning as the doors were opened allowing him entrance.

'_Was that entirely wise, Admon?' _came the soft feminine purr within the android's mind.

'_Only time will tell. Even he deserves a chance at grace,' _he answered while quickly traversing the main club floor away from the cacophony of inebriated minds that assailed him to the safety of his quarters. They were most fortunate in this, not being able to hear each other's chaotic thought patterns and mostly destructive, albeit of self.

'_Rest, Admon. I will attend instead_.'

'_But what of him this night, Ajna?'_

No response.

Admon stilled atop the stair well that lead to his room. He was safe from public view, save from the security cameras.

'_Ajna?'_

He felt the warmth envelop him subtly affecting his limbs and ability to move. He slid down the wall taking the full measure of the input that came at him in waves of discontent and blinding anger.

Admon found the insufficient word for the chaotic maelstrom he had just experienced. '_Hurt..._'

'_Yes. I must attend, Admon._'

He said thank you to the pregnant silence of the hall before slowly getting to his feet, discarding the slippers in the hallway. He needed to feel the rich carpeting beneath his feet once again and rid himself of the saline moisture upon his cheeks.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Just shy of dawn and he was still playing pool. No more takers, the night shift had ended but for the lone barman keeping vigil, sporadically giving the minder the eye impatiently.

Sipping the tepid black coffee with a look of disgust etched on his worn handsome face, Donovan nodded his assent returning tired bleary eyes to the terminal once more, peripherally noting Guy racking another and centering the cue ball to break.

"Guy?"

Bison's leader raised his head, steely gray eyes looking in the direction of the minder hunched over the terminal in the rear booth.

"What?"

Donovan inclined his head to the bartender, who yawned. "Last call. Get 'em in quick, little man."

Bison's leader chalked his cue silently, eyes still fixed on Donovan. "I'll pass. Feel like keeping my wits about me tonight."

"Since when? By now you'd be three sheets to the wind."

A cocky smile settled over Guy's face as he leaned in and broke sending the multi-coloured spheres hurtling sinking a stripe.

He studied the table, choosing his next shot as he spoke. "Is Allurian brandy on offer?"

The minder snorted and shook his head. "Sure, if you're payin' moneybags?"

At least he was speaking. Completely out of character all night; hadn't picked a fight with any wayward patrons. Hadn't tried to get as much free stout down his gullet as per usual, just played and cleaned a few clocks credit wise. He could afford it.

"Sure. My treat, Baldy, since it doesn't look like this night's going to amount to much."

"Thanks." Donovan answered distractedly, rubbing the back of his neck and glaring at the monitor willing it to cooperate.

"Maybe it comes with a price though. Are you willing to pay it, Donny Boy?"

Donovan chuckled and nodded to the bartender who silently placed two tumblers and a half empty bottle on the bar before adding the tally to his tablet for the night. He always intended to pay but he did need to see what Guy would do. Something was entirely off ever since the incident with Admon. Guy had withdrawn into himself.

"Deal, little man."

"Hey! Those aren't right." Guy pointed at the bar man accusingly, beginning to rummage in his pocket for credits, carefully counting his haul. "Want the sniffing ones. If I'm payin' we're doing this shit right. I want that fancy crystal shit the Boss drinks out of. Not the cheap cut glass rubbish."

The barman looked to Donovan who shrugged before replacing the glasses and strode away tabulating his final tablet before Guy got any other ideas above his station.

"Yo asshole, I saw that! You can forget gettin' a tip!"

Guy gave the barman retreating back an evil narrow eyed look before returning his attention to Donovan. "Did you see that? Just walked away like my credit wasn't good enough."

"All taken care of, relax, Guy."

"What the fuck? I thought I was payin' for the round?"

"Nope, my treat, Baby... Enjoy. It's the least I can do for you riding shotgun tonight."

"Not so fast, Donny Boy. Who said I agreed?"

Guy kissed his teeth and shoved the metallic discs back in his pockets, giving the revolving door a final look, somewhat disappointed his own gesture had fallen flat with Donovan, who probably thought he had been kidding. They'd eat like princes for a week with what his pocket held. Maybe even afford the water, if it wasn't too dear.

"So you think a drink seals the deal? Do I look that easy?"

Donovan smiled roguishly looking over the fine specimen of a mongrel who preened beneath his assessing gaze. It really was best he didn't tease. Guy was nothing if not sensitive, though you could never tell him that. He had to get this shit finished anyway. Jupiter knew, Katze would be checking in soon enough and would have a shit fit if the books weren't in order.

"I thought the Brandy closed the deal, Baby?" Much safer bet to play along, maybe the irascible mongrel would finally share what had been bothering him all evening. Cause something had.

Guy chalked his cue irritably refusing to bite at the intended bait.

"Hell no, Baldy, I'm not one of your cheap playthings and how many times have I told you not to call me, Baby?"

"So what do you want in exchange... _Baby_?" Donovan answered playfully, ignoring the raised chin and the stern set of face just looking for a reason to be offended_. _

_Why wasn't the total balancing? Only off fourteen credits this time. Fuck if it came to it, he'd just take it out of his own balance. Wait...the Allurian Brandy! Got it! Balanced!_

"The deal is you get up off that fine ass of yours and come over here and play a game of Eight- ball with me and leave that shit for a minute. Loser takes it."

The minder's head rose to look back at the mongrel casually perched on the edge of the stool with cue between his legs, tapping the floor rhythmically in annoyance at being ignored.

"Don't you mean winner takes all?"

A slow lurid smile curved Guy's lips, continuing to stroke leather clad fingers over the cue's surface suggestively, while pale grey eyes wandered possessively over the bodyguard.

"Yeah, that's another way of puttin' it, Donny Boy. So you comin' or what?"

Donovan closed the terminal and stretched languidly, easing the crick in his back.

"Well that depends on you now, doesn't it?"

Was it his imagination or did Guy just colour rather prettily at his suggestive rejoinder?

He flexed for good measure very aware of his blushing audience of one.

"I'm game, sweet cheeks."

Guy tried to avert his gaze from the ripple of a well muscled chest and the enticingly sleek midriff beneath the skin tight black tee-shirt.

When had this game he initiated turned on him?

The chalk had practically disintegrated to dust between is fingers and the cue tip. That paced

stride to the bar, not to mention that seriously fine ass currently turned towards him as Donovan poured two generous portions was not helping any of his convictions not to be swayed from his own personal resolution, other than to tease the ox into submission.

Cerulean eyes levelling the chestnut haired mongrel with a flat stare. Guy self consciously attempted to dust off the excess chalk on his shirt.

"Slow down, stroke the tip gently."

_Couldn't really tell with the overgrown ox, if that was one of those, fuck what were they called? Oh yeah, metaphors, or not. Was Donovan flirting with him? Fucker had taken long enough, but it was too late now. He didn't deserve a second chance._

"Well, little man? Just gonna stand there or play this out to the bitter sweet end?" Donovan chuckled, handing Guy his drink.

Guy swigged and coughed. The burn felt good going down, even if he felt suddenly light headed with Donovan's nearness.

"Solids and fuck you to hell and back, you got maybe an inch on me, maybe two," Guy answered around the lump in his throat that was his heart, surreptitiously eyeing the slow graceful movements of the guard as he slide his snifter down the smooth bar's surface before sidling up behind him and choosing his own cue.

The fucker was taking far more time than was strictly necessary in the selection.

"Stop stalling. Call your pocket, Baby. The nights getting old and I need some."

Pointedly ignoring the minder's nearness as he chalked his own cue deliberately this time, Guy prepared to call his next shot, entirely too aware of the presence behind him.

"Thirteen. Right corner pocket."

Donovan leaned over Guy's shoulder studying the lay of the table.

"Won't make it, kiddo, look at the angle, four and seven are in the way," the minder offered laying his cue flat on the table, pointing out the near impossible shot and the angle that would be required in hitting the ball just so, allowing the other paw-like hand settled over Guy's left hip nonchalantly.

Guy bit his lower lip attempting to suppress the involuntary tremors the intimate feel of Donovan's warm breath caused and the sweep of a palm down his side.

If he was trying to spoil his aim, wasn't going to work. He'd have to do a damn sight better than that.

"Wanna bet?"

Sniggering softly Donovan winked, settling his own cue between his legs as he leaned back against the bar and raised his snifter in a toast.

"Depends..."

Donovan was definitely making fun of him while sizing him up as he leaned over the table. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see the implication by the subtle shift of limbs as he prepared to chalk his own cue, returning the drink to the bar.

"On?"

Just a fraction of a second is all it took.

"This."

That unanticipated hand that cupped and squeezed his cock effectively killed his aim as the balls went hurtling to and fro. Guy's eyes widened in disgust watching the eight-ball slowly roll across the surface, rimming and then sinking into a corner pocket.

Donovan laughed out loud at Guy's expression.

"Game over, Baby, shall we?"

Cerulean eyes roamed over Guy as he practically purred with enjoyment before palming his own crotch smugly.

"Been waitin' on this ride for days, Baby; can't blame a guy for cheating, now can you?"

Kind of funny really, damn he was pissed at being caught off guard. Yep, the kid was hot and seriously pissed if the heavy breathing was anything to go by and the firm set of shoulders prepared to fight. Much better than the passive aggressive bullshit he was going on with earlier.

"You look seriously hot, little man, hair all wild and shit. I'm guessing you wanna go toe-to-toe right about now, am I right?"

"Fuck you!"

This was more like it. This was Guy.

"You didn't actually state the rules, Baby. Who doesn't cheat to get what they want?"

"Sure, asshole, with an enemy. My mistake; won't happen again."

"Come on, lighten up. You should see your face, like you've never been groped before."

In lieu of an apology, the minder attempted to hand the chestnut haired mongrel his drink.

"Now where were we? Oh yeah, you peeling those off nice and slow and bending over the table all accommodating like. Me kissing the nape of your neck workin' it in nice and slow just the way you like it. You squeezing the shit outta this bad boy all breathless and moaning, begging me to fuck you harder while I tug that beautiful mane of yours."

Gray eyes had gone cold.

Donovan shifted his weight in preparation for the inevitable strike that was coming, smoothly palming his own crotch.

"Mmm...yeah...gonna feel so good. I've missed you."

Guy's upper lip began to twitch.

"Yeeeahah, boy have I missed coming in that tight little ass of yours all twitchy and needy like. Feels so good when you strangle my cock, milking it for dear life when you come all over my hand or chest, Baby's always a quivering sexy mess then; always makes me wanna take you again."

Cold pewter gray orbs were now menacing. It would not take much more to tip his fellow mongrel over the edge. Sometimes a double barrel attack was what it took.

"Riki has no idea what he's missing. You're a nice ride, Baby, one of the best. I'm sure Admon couldn't compete."

The left hook was not anticipated, nor the sudden taste of blood in the minders mouth as teeth connected with flesh and he stared back into an enraged and potentially lethal gaze.

"Never...ever...go there, Baldy!"

Donovan snorted and raised the snifter he held loosely between thick fingers.

The warm viscous liquid was dashed in his face by a forceful slap. It stung his eyes but not as much as the hurt he saw etched in Guy's pained face.

Perhaps he had gone too far.

"What the fuck!"

"Stop treating me like a fucking joke, Donovan! I've killed men, harmed men for less." Guy finished, snapping the cue across his knee and throwing the pieces across the bar towards the minder.

Donovan ducked, but not before the sharp edge of one of the halves glanced across his cheek, causing a gash. The minder dabbed at his cheek, fingers coming away with blood.

"You, Guy, are a fucking psycho!"

Guy flinched at the sight, gray eyes vaguely apologetic as he turned away and strode for the closed doors, determined to leave.

"Outta here, asshole! You had that coming."

"Get your ass back here and explain yourself! What the fuck is wrong with you tonight?"

Hand over fist, the minder snagged the shirt off over his head and harshly wiped his face, glaring at the mongrel in open disbelief. Whatever had been bugging the idiot, was coming to the fore now thankfully. If this is what it took, so be it.

"Don't make me tell you twice, Guy! Get your ass back here!" Donovan barked as he strode towards the retreating figure of the chestnut haired male. Yanking his bicep hard, the minder catapulted the wiry male onto the table's surface holding him down as he growled into the mongrel's face.

For the second time in Guy's life he saw deathly anger in blue eyes.

There was a difference in these, however beyond shade. Guy saw genuine confusion and perhaps even hurt. That was unexpected. He was the injured party, not Donovan.

"Guy what the fuck?"

The hand about his throat brooked no argument in keeping him still, but there was a shadow in the look being given. Guy turned from the haunted questioning gaze. His own hands dropped from broad shoulders in defeat, awaiting the eventual outcome of his newest transgression against the one being since...since...what the hell did it matter? Not that anything he ever really wanted ever worked out anyway.

Might as well say it, even if it fell on deaf ears; he hadn't ever said it to the other.

"I'm sorry, Donovan."

The minder blinked, his grasp loosened to almost a caress as the bodyguard regarded him pensively before speaking.

"Not going to apologize for wanting you. I meant what I said."

"Don't want you to. Didn't mean to...hurt ..."

'_What the fuck was wrong with his voice? Why couldn't he speak?'_

"Just talk to me, Baby."

Was it really that easy? Had it really always been that easy to turn murderous, justifiable rage into a slackened grip that eased into a gentle, soothing caress of limbs? Guy felt those paw-like hands relinquish their grasp and lift him, allowing him to stand shame faced.

"Look at me, Guy." Those same hands rough and calloused lifted his face gently. "Did Admon do something to you earlier? Is that what this is about?"

It felt strange this embrace. The feel of his arms coiled about the broad back seeking nothing more than the closeness offered in the moment. Not an enemy; never had been really. He'd only ever had one enemy, himself.

Tentatively Guy leaned into forgiveness and its welcomed warmth.

"No. I've always done it to myself, Donovan."

The minder lifted his head a sad, relieved smile on his care worn face.

"It's a start, little man, owning it. We all have to."

Guy sighed noting the two single blood drops on the pristine white tee-shirt. Luke was going to kill him.

"You're leaking, Baldy."

The lips that smothered his into silence were warm as was the body that conformed to his and the hands that gently carded his hair in that familiar and wholly comforting way.

'_Thank God he washed it. The fucker was obsessed with his hair.'_

Forgiveness, if this was it, felt good.

**~~~BMR~~~**

An actual meal shared; genuine laughter and the promised firelight casting long ghostlike shadows about the bedroom.

Katze was mesmerized by the licking flames and the gentle sporadic pop. He'd learnt quickly enough how fast the embers could travel, almost hitting the carpet at one point with an injudicious poke.

"Not too much with the stoking, Katze, leave it be and return to bed. I am unaccountably attached to the carpeting."

Though crouched the dealer turned amber lit eyes to the being holding the sheets aloft beckoning him.

"You can watch the dying embers from here just as well. I grow cold."

"Hardly, you're all furnaces in my opinion. Can always tell when one of you is close. Thank Jupiter our nights are cold or you'd be out of luck."

A pale brow rose as Raoul tapped the bedding meaningfully. "You do that so well, a slap and a caress all without ever missing a beat. Come here, Katze."

Katze stood a wry smile coming to his lips as he allowed his robe to puddle about his feet and moved towards the bed. It never failed to please him the appreciative heated gaze his nudity brought to Raoul's usually impassive countenance.

"See, we are going to have to work on that command thing, if you ever plan on getting any tonight or any other night going forward, Raoul Am. Kinda pisses me off to no end each time you do it, like I have no say when we are alone. Save that shit for the public face."

Raoul glared down his patrician nose at the male who settled in next to him, but kept his own counsel. All forms of relating required compromise. His mongrel was worth it.

Katze ignored the indignant look and edged closer resting his head upon Raoul's naked shoulder.

"Make yourself useful. Open your arms. I need your warmth."

The Elite obliged stiffly, accepting the moderately cooler skin's touch, relaxing instantly as Katze settled in next to him, head tilted at an angle watching the dimming light of the fireplace as long fingers smoothed over Raoul's abdominal muscles rhythmically.

"Ceres, I have a name Raoul. I have a name all my own."

"A name of origin, Katze, this speaks volumes as to your ancestry and that of the Rubies."

Katze kissed the bicep thrown over his shoulder absently before fingering the golden tendrils about his fingers with a secretive smile.

"God that must piss Sir Up-His-Ass off to no end. I remember the edge that always came off him with each encounter. Didn't know what it was then, but now it has a name – fear. We might be related."

"Katze, we agreed to leave this subject until morning when I will have had ample time to discuss with Sir Niiro his experiments and their ramifications."

Katze snorted. "You're all still hiding something, not going to press. Have my own shit to work out for the time being."

Raoul nodded, nuzzling closer to the soft cool strands beneath his lips, listening intently to his mongrel's breathing, enjoying the closeness.

"You speak of Admon, however circuitously, am I correct?"

"Gotta be careful with this, Sir Am. He came back for a reason. My gut tells me Admon knows shit he's not sharing. A lot like a certain Blondie, I know."

"Undoubtedly," Raoul answered noncommittally with a slight edge to his voice.

The dealer settled heavily against the Elite's side, insinuating a limb between the Blondie's legs with a chuckle, his own member taking happy interest in the pleasing discovery of budding interest on his Elite's part.

Raoul was definitely not as tired as he pretended.

"Someone's awfully alert and perky all of a sudden, thought that was your knee under there."

"Why are you so determined?" Raoul yawned, stopping the hand that had been causing him no end of grief physically by slowly wending its way towards his nether regions with each circular caress of finger tips.

"Any of that _mongrel marking his territory_ conversation come to mind, Sir Am?"

"I thought you desired rest? We agreed over dinner no leading touches that might insight. If necessary I shall command you to stop, which should cool your ardour you little hypocrite. Unlike you, I am sufficiently disciplined and polite not to make mention of your own _obvious_ arousal. "

Katze pursed his lips and winked at the Elite.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're a pedant?"

"I beg your pardon, Mongrel!"

"I like the begging part, Sir Am." Katze quipped ducking under the sheets for a better view.

He really was faster and stronger than his lithe frame looked to the naked eye, Raoul thought allowing his lower limbs to be dragged down and around lean flanks.

"Katze! Get back up here this instant!"

"Shame there's no chocolate," Katze's muffled voice answered beneath the sheets. Raoul shivered in response to the feel of warm, moist breath ghosting along his hip bone.

"I command you to...to...Katze... what are you ...oooohhh ...yes,well... since you are already uuhm...engaged, a little to the left... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah... I...I...will alllooooooooooooooowwwwwww...dear Jupiter...don't stop."

"Almost a Wolf call that," Katze licked his fingers, amused by the sudden groan of frustration above the sheets and the soft pants of acquiescence. Who was the hypocrite indeed?

"Wh-why have you stopped?" the Elite inquired indignantly, raising his hips. Yep. Blondie sounded genuinely aggrieved at being denied the wet suction of his mouth, even for a moment.

"Haven't," the dealer snickered with a teasing swipe of tongue against the already fully engorged length.

"Be patient with your Mongrel, Sir Am. I like taking time with dessert. Tastes better that way, even without chocolate." Katze mused aloud contently.

There really was no better way to end an evening but with a good bout of thrashing Elite probably biting through his lower lip trying desperately not to awaken Deek, as a long finger tentatively began to probe and stretch him with each deft stroke of tongue.

Yes, he rather enjoyed Raoul's incoherent keening, just needed to work on controlling the reflexive motion of muscular thighs, if he wanted to avoid being choked to death.

**~~~BMR~~~**

"You called me by name," Donovan moaned softly into his pillow, enjoying the feel of that moist tongue's probing insistence and the splayed fingers kneading his ass cheeks.

"Big fuckin' whoop, Baldy. Want more tongue? You're still kinda tight."

He felt Guy shift bodily, yanking his hips back forcefully. The kid had absolutely no grace.

"Go easy, Guy. I've never..."

"Fuck why so tight, Donny Boy, can't even feel my fingers up there but for the heat." Guy chuckled half heartedly, the vaguest of trepidation causing his gut to tighten; it just wasn't possible. The man was a whore.

Donovan stifled a grimace into the pillow.

"Come on, try to relax. Flip over, let me suck you for a bit, might help you enjoy this more."

The none too gentle slicked fingers that forced their way beyond the tight ring of muscle withdrew just as suddenly as they had entered him.

"Okay, whatever you want," Donovan hissed at the burn, turning over to face Guy fully. "You're gonna need a pillow this way. Never mind the blow job. I can take it."

Guy's brows furrowed noting the tightly scrunched eyes and rigid jaw atop the pillow not to mention the flaccid cock. "You're killing the mood, Baldy. Pass the lube. It's not like you've never done this before, right?"

Donovan gritted his teeth, trying desperately to breathe through the pain as Guy's fingers re entered him.

"Let's try this again," Guy said clinically, adjusting the minder's pelvis atop his strong thighs for a better angle.

Donovan shivered at the coldness of the slicked fingers jarring probe.

"Take it easy, Guy. I'm not fighting you. I want this. I want you."

"Damn right you're not. I won fair and square cause you cheated, so don't start with this virginal shit in hopes I won't fuck you raw."

"Just askin' you to go slow for a bit, you know, til I get use to it. Won't take long, just be patient, I'm begging you."

"What the fuck do you mean by get use to it? Everyone knows you're the biggest whore around the club."

Cerulean eyes opened as Donovan gripped the bed head with a pained smile of encouragement, eyeing Guy's fully erect member leaking pre-cum in anticipation of its conquest.

"That's cause I've never been topped before, Baby."

The burning, pained slide within ceased as Guy carefully withdrew slicked fingers and ungraciously wiped them on pristine white sheets in silence, gray eyes level with that of bright blue.

"Fuckin' idiot, I could have hurt your ass!"

Despite the indignant glare, Donovan sniggered at the unintended pun.

"This isn't funny, moron! You gotta tell your lover this kind of shit. It's important, Donovan. No wonder the limp dick routine. Thought I'd lost my touch or somethin'," Guy said, unceremoniously shoving Donovan's splayed limbs off his thighs.

"You're such a fuckin' tool sometimes." Guy pointed to the head of the bed. "Sit up and spread 'em. Gonna suck you instead. We'll take it as it goes tonight until you're ready for me inside you."

Donovan blinked, somewhat confused by the turn of events.

'_Guy being chivalrous; had he been underestimated him all this time?'_

"What about you? That boner looks painful."

Guy unselfconsciously eased himself back between the wide spread legs of the minder and began humping the sheets in lieu as he firmly gripped Donovan's hips.

"Not to worry. That big mouth of yours'll come in handy real soon, Baldy. The sheet'll have to do for the time being."

Donovan shrugged and waggled his brows, placing well muscled arms behind his head, flexing well honed abs for good measure.

Guy's eyes narrowed.

"Don't even think I'm letting you off that easy. I want in, but I can wait unlike the monster. He's lookin' kinda depressed from where I'm layin'."

The minder closed his eyes in surrender lowering one hand to card the thick mane beneath his fingers.

Who was he to protest soft wet lips laying tentative feather light kisses over the skin of his inner thighs as those same fingers that caused pain moments before, gently worked his rapidly thickening and lengthening cock to wakeful toe curling bliss.

It felt so good, the light graze of teeth, just so and the firm pulling suction of a surprisingly artful mouth.

'_Admon had nothing on Baby_.'

**~~~BMR~~~**

Admon's smile was beatific as he gazed upon the twin moons bright and resilient in the ink black sky. Pride but not of the false variety, Guy finally had it and genuine care where he least intended it.

"Yes Guy, there is a lot to be said for self respect and forgiveness is freeing." He whispered in the hallowed darkness.

The glow of morning would be here soon, Admon thought, changing everything. He would wait for Ajna's return in the meeting of minds before slumber.

For now, he was content to stand atop the cold balcony, basking in the firm feel of fortified stone beneath his feet. There would be a time where the luxury of this would be nothing more than memory.

He sighed. They really had no idea what a privilege it was to engage the sense of touch until it was lost. The very best gift Sir Niiro had given both he and his sibling but at a price.

**~~~BMR~~~**

"You are late. The Chosen is never late to the call."

Iason bowed deeply to the filmy smoke like entity whose wraithlike presence had taken on an eerie, frenetic crimson glow in the otherwise colourless gray room where a single chair awaited its occupant.

Jupiter was angry, if that was possible.

"They have communed, despite my best efforts."

Not a question, an accusation, implying Tanagura leader's complicity.

Iason sat, his ice blue eyes lowering discreetly between steepled fingers.

"Abject apologies for my tardiness, the mongrel was indisposed."

"You lie, my first born. Why?"

The repugnant gossamer like tendrils that once cloistered him again wound about his chest, caressing his limbs searching for entry.

He closed his eyes and entered the space, the dark place where Jupiter never ventured, the alien place, the human place, where no footing could be held with surety. It was too chaotic and devoid or reason for a being designed and born of reason alone.

Time had taught him this, or more accurately Riki.

He had never been able to follow him there and in so doing, a safe space had been created, a space that had cost them much in misunderstandings.

This fundamental but learnt difference was refuge for the Syndicate leader, such irony.

After all, the Elite were merely the modified progeny of the First Ones. They too could master this space, perhaps with more alacrity than the actual mongrel themselves who lived in chaos.

For them it was not a refuge.

The clawing attempt at warmth receded from his mind.

"Clever. I am never able to follow you there, but I can surmise what is hidden there, Iason. I know of your indiscretions of youth. I humoured them out of curiosity but there must be an end to this. Bring the mongrel Katze to me. I can follow him to the appropriate end."

Iason inclined his head. "Of course, I live to serve."

**~~~BMR~~~**

No one was privy to the shift of countenance upon the face of the male Karinese in the nondescript chamber. No one was aware of the surge of energy that riffled through the room or the eyes that became white hot as they rolled back into the android's head.

The day had finally come for recompense.

_**Author's Note**_

Hope you enjoyed. Let me know. Do feel free to stare at my beautiful portrait of Katze that tops my _**Live Journal**_ posts. He is so stunning, I feel compelled to share. _**Kir**_-_**Tata**_ captured my vision entirely. The woman is spectacularly talented.

Namaste

**EP**


	37. Chapter 36

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **36 of 37**

**Reviews are fuel.**

This penultimate chapter is dedicated to **Mazarinem** for her depiction of Raoul Am, a gift of great feeling, and sensual warmth. You will find the portrait titled "_**Exactly Two Beats"**_ on DeviantArt and on my journal profile page.

As a reviewer I hold dear said, it is all in the eyes in this beautiful depiction. They are alive. I will always cherish it. No greater love as they say...thank you **Mazarinem**. It is spectacular in its depth.

**ElegantPaws**

**Chapter 36** of 37 – **Sons of the Moons** (Post OVA)

They illumined the world those celestial twins in their eternal, silent orbit; mysterious, omnipresent, and wholly indifferent when seen from the vantage of dusk's gloaming which heralded the rapid fall of night's somnolent cloak.

Quietly, dispassionately their iridescent silvery beams fell upon Amoi and the sentient beings below, harbouring in their silence a secret privy to a select few. Take for example the entity with gilt exotically tinted eyes looking up contemplatively at their sheen. His smoke perched between pursed well formed lips. Silk clad, albeit rumpled, pale eyes sleep deprived and calm.

Katze yawned and stretched languidly, he had left Raoul snoring peacefully post sensual romp, oblivious to the universe at large, hugging the pillow with an indolent smile, utterly content and sated.

Pale eyes regarded the coming of dawn on the horizon. Its presence subtle, a moderate shift of wavelength is all it was at the moment, barely perceptible to the naked eye but for a pallid blue undulating line in the distance.

Tonight had been different in content. Of limbs fluid of movement and yet urgent in need as they came together, the moment held briefly but felt for an eternity.

A breathy exchange in a kiss, vows, not previously spoken uttered as they came in the dwindling light and then there was silence as they held each other and basked in the moment of completion, their forms liquid and hot in resolution, taking another turn in the conquest of flesh and mind.

Silence...a peaceful one.

Both realizing what they held within each other's arms, the unspoken that needed no words, evident in the touch, in the whispers of time held infinitely still; too sacred to be spoken aloud as they kissed through the ebbing of heart beats, the ebbing of the most bestial and primal of needs replaced by the awareness, they were one.

He pulled the silk robe about him and tucked the belt more tightly, enjoying the feel of the cool sleeves upon goose-fleshed skin. The dealer raised the scorching bitter brew to his lips, sniffing the steam in delight. He hadn't lost his touch. Katze sniffed the dark brew again, happily, having made it himself, amusingly he could not remember the last time he had done so menial and gratifyingly simple a task.

At least he was sure of the ingredients unlike last night's succulent meal, each bite suspect.

Twice now he had examined himself for symptoms. None made themselves evident.

Coffee brewed to perfection.

No better smell. Well, possible Raoul Am's sweat, but that was another context.

The dealer snickered lewdly to himself and sipped after blowing on the steaming dark liquid with a satisfied sigh as he savoured the heat from the cup between his fingers staving off the shivers within his frigid limbs.

Peace. Silence and uninterrupted peace, akin to his rooftop at morning's light. He looked down at his naked feet, spotting the soft organic material nudging the tip of his big toe in surprise, his gaze drifted back upward.

His feet were still inordinately cold though. Katze's toes curled involuntarily on the hard, reinforced surface not covered with organically grown lichen and moss. He needed the cold which kept his senses alert. Cognac eyes surveyed with pleasure the balcony.

How truly different the two Blondies were in there privately held spaces called home.

Where Iason had chosen the barren and the linear aspect of a gray wide vista unadorned, Raoul had a created a studied space of greenery with a walking path that overlooked the cityscape below.

No kidding he favoured green as could attest the two trees flanking both corners of the oblong rectangular corners, their respective trunks topped with a series of intertwined leafy branches forming braids, fostered by years of training.

He was patient, unlike his brethren.

Not something the circumspect and wholly indifferent Deek would have done. This had the hand of Raoul in it. Yes, he could imagine his Elite carefully coaxing these branches to bend to his will without breaking; a lot like he had done with the ex-Furniture himself.

Katze turned, seeking his smokes which he must have left on the low wooden table or bench to the right of where he stood. His brows furrowed, a thought suddenly occurring to him as he looked back at the sliding doors and lit his smoke, placing the steaming cup on the table.

He hadn't come out here last night. Why in hell was an ashtray here and a fresh pack of smokes. It was not as if he requested it.

Raoul had thought of this, anticipated this; cagey bastard, _his_ bastard when all was said and done.

The ex-Furniture looked about suspiciously, finding nothing out of place before reaching for the cup once more, noting in his peripheral vision the lowering of the twins and their incandescent glow which had dulled significantly, that distant horizon of pearlescent blue growing by degree.

He could see his own hands clearly now, how long had he stood here, contemplating nothing but the crack beneath his feet that marred the cement-like surface he stood upon? When had the light been sufficient for him to note the green mossy brush and the purplish bloom atop it beneath his feet? Tiny to be sure, but resilient in its determination to live, to break through to seek light and flourish, despite the fearsome odds against it in this oasis, this self created Eden?

The dealer brushed his big toe over the inconsequential bloom, possibly a wild flower, a spore that had dwelt unhindered beneath the weak spot awaiting its turn.

Katze bent set on removing it. He would not allow it to intrude. If not attended to, that crack would shatter the reinforced foundation, marring an otherwise perfect space.

"Leave it. I want to see what becomes given time. Deek has been after it for weeks too." Raoul chimed in softly with an expansive yawn, sleepy green eyes fixed on Katze's big toe reproachfully. "Did you plan on returning to bed anytime this morning or were you simply awaiting an opportune moment to scurry away without any by your leave?"

Katze stood, raising his cup in silent greeting before a playful smile curved his lips, lazily shifting his stance away from the aforementioned flora to the Elite's visible relief.

"Good morning to you too, Sir Am. Serious case of bed head you got going there, Blondie."

A golden brow arched. "Clearly you have not looked in a mirror yourself, Katze."

Raoul's full lips broke into a soft lecherous grin. "If I were you I would rethink the current favoured hair product, Mongrel. Your coif looks stiff to the touch."

Katze's eyes narrowed meaningfully, catching the nuance implied by the Elite's words.

"And whose fault would that be, Sir Am?"

The dealer proffered the cup he was sipping to the Elite.

"Guilty as charged." Raoul's lips pursed as he looked down upon Katze's sleep mused hair with a sidelong grin. "On second thought this look becomes you."

Katze snorted. "Emphasis on the word come. By the way I need a toothbrush, any going spare in this abode?"

Raoul took the cup, ignoring the question as he carefully placing the delicate porcelain on the table before drawing his mongrel into his arms.

"We shall see. It very much depends what is being offered in exchange." Raoul murmured against the soft skin of his mongrel's neck. Katze shivered, softly moaning his encouragement, while long limbs acquiesced to the insistent feel of hard muscled form pressed so intimately against him.

"How's this?" Katze offered tipping up with a roguish smile and placing a chaste kiss on smirking lips.

"Not nearly enough," Raoul countered playfully, teasingly licking damp, still swollen lips with the tip of his tongue as he ground his hips forward, receiving for his efforts a wholly satisfying moan that reverberated through the mongrel's body sending a hot jolt of arousal through his own frame as he rolled his hips forward.

Their kiss broke, both panting breathlessly, both gazes intent at the wordless request implicit in Raoul's eyes.

"I want you." Raoul whispered against the damp salty neck, enjoying the hitch of Katze's breath as he nipped the firm jaw line edging slowly up to indulge those soft wet lips parting beneath his tremulously.

He drank of Katze's mouth thirstily again, savouring the warm brush of lips and tongue that still bore the tang and musk of him, spiking his own arousal once more. Strong elegant fingers parted the mongrel's robe, seeking and finding the hot pulsing length denied him earlier.

"My turn I think?"

Such a strange light, Raoul thought in those cognac depths as Katze nodded panting softly, licking his lips, edging closer to that inviting mouth as he closed his own palm over that of the Elite's guiding his deft strokes, widening his stance, allowing in a haphazard manner, the Blondie to back him into the balcony wall, pinning him there.

"Yes."

This was bliss to intently watch his mongrel's flushed face and neck, his heaving chest and the soft cry as his eyes shuttered closed, the robe slipping from his shoulders revealing pearlescent skin kissed by the early dawn.

Raoul lowered himself to his knees, eyes fixed on their fingers intertwined, those beautiful fingers slackening their near strangle hold of his own, brushing back the long golden mane from the exquisite head and hot mouth encircling the head of his cock, licking the damp slit.

"Oh fuck...yes!"

Both supplicated with closed eyes.

Raoul's tongue was gentle, almost teasing in its exploration as strong fingers continued to pump the mongrel's throbbing sex, matching the rhythm set by lean hips, as pale eyes continued to look into deep hooded amber equally intent.

Katze knees almost buckled from the dual sensation of that hot tongue pressing into the wet slit and that of the maddening caress of the thin sensitive skin between entrance and testes.

"Come back up here, Sir Am." Katze commanded huskily, shivering at the cool sensation of air upon his distended shaft, glad of the warmth as Raoul took him in his arms once more twinning their members in a slow sensual grind as their lips met hungrily.

Dawn greeted them thusly in a tangle of limps as they kissed unaware of a curiously pensive set of dark brown eyes observing them stealthily from the kitchen with com to hand.

Deek replaced it on the cradle and set about making breakfast. It was obvious both his Master and that ex-Furniture were ravenous, he sighed. Perhaps another hour would pass before his Master would bellow for breakfast, probably from bed with that creature in his arms.

He heard the quiet whispers and the odd stolen kiss, matched step for step, coy, his Master's laughter, a genuine smile upon that usually stoically beautiful face; had he just done wrong by Sir Am?

Food would be next on their agenda, their current needs evident as both fumbled at cross purposes with the sliding doors before it opened and the mad undignified dash towards the bedroom, like adolescence.

The Furniture sighed fretfully, eyeing their respective backs once more with foreboding as he scrambled eggs and reset the percolator to brew, noting the amount used by the wretched mongrel in the canister he had refilled the night before.

Surely the quantity utilized could wake the dead.

So be it, if the wretched creature insisted on poisoning his system willingly, who was he to argue?

Toast would be next and some other manner of protein, fruit and grain for his Master. For now, he had morning tasks, the mongrel's presence would be ignored.

Dark eyes did remain disquieted. His Master bore the look of contentment. Dare he think it? The word happy came to mind; no, he had done right informing Cal of the mongrel's continued presence, hadn't he? All he had done was answer a simple query. Nothing more would come of it.

The niggling doubt still remained at the back of his mind as he heard the bedroom door close.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Sir Niiro's gaze grew inward as his lips curved into a contemplative moue. He still had a single card to play, perhaps two. He looked back into the sepulchral space that was the bedroom, noting the inordinately still figure within the dishevelled sheets.

Ajna had been compliant but distant in their games. One would say almost pre-occupied offering none of the usual zeal. Not the most satisfying of encounters considering, almost of two minds.

The Ruby returned his focus without, studying the subtle movements of the celestial orbs, his face shadowed by the borrowed light of the distant star unnoticed by all that gave the barren twin spheres their light.

Perspective was everything.

His fitful thoughts returned to the bright silver discs above as he perched on the side of the open window and mused. Their incandescent forms had been forged billions of years before sentience as they understood it. Silently they had followed one another in orbit unaware and uncaring of the mythology that had developed about them by the bipeds below since the half millennia of occupation. The humanoid species was fond of storytelling, even from their humble origins by firelight.

Darkened, meditative citrine eyes noted abstractedly the dulling of their sheen and attendant magic, by the coming of dawn; Raoul had left him a message demanding an audience at the Medical Centre at his earliest convenience, a private meeting. Raoul Am had never been an early riser. No doubt the wretched mongrel had something to do with this request. Raoul wanted to keep him quiet, he could use that.

His lips thinned, too close for comfort. All subjective conjecture mind, but still the dealer had been closer to the mark than was strictly tolerable in more ways than one about their shared genome. He could see it ever present in those eyes studying him with malice.

First things first, the encrypted files, once retrieved, would have to be destroyed. Damn the wretched mongrel. Such a waste, they had been the actual reason for the journey not the reunion as Raoul fancifully imagined. He had not left with the one item he needed, the box.

A cold breeze wafted into the room, Sir Niiro shivered, lowering the window a fraction, noting the soft moan that came from the region of the bed. Clever minx, she had been awake all this time, probably watching his movements unable to see his eyes most fortunately, her means of borrowing thoughts unlike her brother, who could do so at will to his singular detriment.

It did keep him in check and isolated, unlike her. Her skills lay elsewhere and perhaps, just perhaps had not been the best of decisions on his part, a direct link to the cloud of consciousness that was Jupiter's matrix.

Useful to be sure, but a dangerous skill set to be harnessed only when necessary to his continued survival and that of their own. It had been fortuitous not to complete them after all. The game's play had shifted significantly in recent days.

The redheaded mongrel would have to be disposed off first before they could continue.

Pale eyes looked up in thought, almost giving an absent deferential bow to his aces in the hole as they moved further off upon the horizon, graciously leaving space for a new day, secrets intact.

Malleable lips quirked at their equally cold indifference, oblivious to the machinations of the bipeds below such as himself, so determined to thrive, making over the universe to their own exacting specifications.

The Ruby self deprecatingly chuckled at the irony. That which he, they, most fervently sought in their youth out of curiosity would be their undoing, and that of their maker.

Perspective was everything.

**~~~BMR~~~**

The big ox was too tired to swat his wandering fingers.

Guy's face broke out into a soft smile as he watched the slow progress of his own index outlining the well sculpted nose that wriggled beneath the pad of one finger tip in its travels down towards the not particularly full but well formed soft lips.

He bit his own lower lip in focussed concentration adjusting one palm beneath his head, determined not to jog the bed as he examined the big ox in slumber.

Nice bones, a passing thought while running his finger over the well proportioned jaw line with furrowed brows coming to the knick on Donovan's cheek.

Hadn't meant that to happen, he leaned in pressing is lips to the injury, kinda salty from residual sweat. Didn't remember who the fuck told him that kisses made shit like this better, but hey no loss fucktard was asleep and couldn't call him on it.

Guy gazed at the raised red welt accusingly. Didn't work worth shit, but made him feel better. Maybe that was the point. Guy sighed, his gaze becoming speculative. No point dwelling in a day it would disappear. Wasn't deep, wouldn't be permanent unlike the scars he bore which would always be livid where the arm had been replaced by painful re-growth and rehab.

Scarface had a vengeful streak a kilometre long, no way would he have paid to do anything other than the basics. Cosmetics were extra, particularly for the unworthy, whom he had sooner died at the time.

Pale gray eyes returned to the minder, the hard caste of his attractive face softening as he really looked at Donovan's profile in repose.

The big fuck looked almost angelic. Well except for the slackened jaw and the open mouth sure to catch flies if there were any. Nimble fingers gently shut Donovan's mouth, only to have it open again.

Guy sniggered, smoothing his palm over the beard roughened cheek once more for something to do.

He really did looked fuckin' innocent, almost made him want to protect him. The hard lines of the weathered face relaxed, his true age showing in this dormant state. Donovan couldn't have been more than three years older than Sid.

Guy blinked acknowledging for the first time that Donovan was actually handsome, fuck that the bastard was beautiful, when you put his features together.

Touching, not something Guy was fond of doing unless it served a purpose, had been a major pre-occupation for Bison's leader in the last half hour as he carefully slid the sheets lower revealing the exquisite prone form to hungry curious eyes.

Who the fuck knew when he would have this kind of opportunity again to study the stupid fuck like this without fear or favour, no retribution, no play to lead anywhere. Didn't have a clue what he was looking for, but look he intended to do.

Donovan loved foreplay more than anyone else he had ever known. He was sure Donovan knew every nook and cranny of his own body by heart. He'd never been given the same opportunity until now.

Guy shifted carefully on the bed, intent on examining the minder's ink fully without needless jarring banter. Beautiful work, must have taken forever and it was professional too, definitely off world and expensive, not to mention painful. Asshole never mentioned anything about his past. Then again when had they ever talked, really? Not likely either the way things were going.

Definitely a mercenary, that was obvious with anyone who had eyes. The markings kinda told that tale all by themselves, Guy narrowed pale gray eyes following his fingers' path down the thick throat and the prominent Adam's apple, over the ridge of the smooth even collar bones, coming to a slight rise over the left.

Woe, why hadn't he noticed that before? The left had broken once. Must have hurt like a bitch at the time, hadn't been set either just knitted back together, Guy's lips thinned in anger, imagining all manner of circumstances. It was old, would have been a kid at the time.

Guy eased off his right wrist and flexed it, encouraging circulation, while observing the still body next to him. Donovan shifted his sleep turning towards him as he held his breath and a heavy arm threw itself over his shoulder, stilling his own movement temporarily as he evened his breathing soundlessly.

Didn't want to wake the overgrown fuck now, he'd just gotten started with his explorations.

He smiled to himself as Donovan murmured in his sleep and reached out over Guy's shoulder. The mongrel relaxed again and rolled his eyes, even in sleep. Bison's leader lowered his head allowing the massive paw-like hand to find what it sought, flinging his thick mane over one shoulder allowing callused fingers to slide down his waist length mane, the tentative flex of strong fingers content with the loose hold upon tendrils wrapped about a thick wrist.

No question this one would be into a little bondage given half a chance, though he had never pushed it with Guy. Fucker did love to use his hair as reins at the slightest opportunity like earlier, controlling his movements in their play.

Guy's lips pursed. Not that he was going to complain, felt good at the time. Just something he noticed. Strong fingers passed tentatively over the well muscled abdominal cavity, fascinated by the details of each scale upon the serpent that coiled about Donovan's torso, hiding its head from view gorging itself on its own tail.

"Beautiful." Bison's leader found himself whispering into the early dawn reverently, caressing the smooth skin covering hard muscles at rest. "You really are the most beautiful thing, I've ever seen, Donny Boy."

The hand over his back stilled its wandering and the muscles beneath his flattened palm grew rigid. Guy's heart skipped a beat as his face became defensive and hard, carefully raising his palm from the flat warm skin of Donovan's hip as his eyes rose to meet sparkling sleepy blue ones.

"How long you been awake, fuck face? Wipe that shit eatin' smirk off your damn face. Was just killin' time lookin' at the ink, what's it mean?"

Donovan snorted. "Awhile, but it was beginning to tickle, Baby."

The Chestnut haired mongrel raised his head, eyes becoming dark accustomed in the dim light as he looked into amused bright blue, his heart skipping several beats.

"You can stop staring at me any time now, Donny Boy and answer my question." Guy scratched his head self consciously and inched further towards the end of the bed. How long had he really been awake?

"Come up here, Baby and make Donny's mouth happy." Donovan murmured groggily, pulling on Guy's mane coiled about his fingers, before releasing it.

"Why and you still haven't answered?" Guy asked diffidently with a lowered gaze; couldn't stand when Donovan just stared as if he knew something.

"Be a good boy and bring that mouth up here before it says something to spoil the mood. I'll explain later."

Guy laughed outright and slinked up the warm body, allowing Donovan to roll over onto him and steal his breath. Damn nice way to wake up that was for sure, as was the feel of those hands reacquainting themselves with his body in the most intimate of fashion.

"You feel so good, Baby." Donovan moaned against his neck, nipping gently the soft earlobe between his teeth. "It means rebirth."

That nip did the trick, causing the mongrel's limbs to twitch as the muscles of his lower abdomen tightened involuntarily and he arched his lower back off the bed. Oh yeah, Donovan knew damn well what he was doing alright, evil fuck was about to tease him unmercifully, pressing, rubbing that taut abdomen against his own burgeoning erection. Yeah, like they both didn't know where this was leading, fucker was half way to being hard as a rock already.

Unselfconsciously Guy reached a long arm out for the lube sucking Donovan's lower lip between his teeth and nibbling softly as he began to pant, warm breath fanning the minder's face.

Despite expert ministrations on the bodyguard's part and the familiar slick wetness signalling Donovan's readiness to penetrate him, was gonna need some help.

"Ease up big boy. Need some room to work here, if you want me to enjoy this too," Guy jogged his hips to illustrate his point. Donovan raised his head, sleepy lust hazed eyes intently focussed on the mongrel's open mouth.

"Again with the pre-emptive striking, little man, what's the hurry? Got anywhere to be in the next twenty minutes? Just enjoy, got all morning."

Gray eyes widened as he gasped when Donovan shifted above him aligning their cocks.

"You think I can take that monster comfortably without this, you got another thing coming, asshole."

Hard to be mad when those fuckin hands were making him slowly insane with their wandering, he stretched managing with great effort to flip the cap's lid as he sought Donovan's mouth with his own and shifted his limbs to accommodate the bodyguard between his thighs, despite his words.

He felt the moist chuckle against his neck as Donovan held him firmly and rolled onto his back. "Never assume, little man. Be gentle this time. I'm not going anywhere."

Guy blinked, finally finding his voice, however croaked as he caught his breath and fumbled with the tube, spilling a more than generous quantity in his palm as he stuttered, slathering his member nervously, still unsure. Was Donovan actually offering himself?

"You sure? Me? You want me, right? Not just taking the piss? Me?"

Donovan smiled guilelessly up at the nervous mongrel licking his lips. He beckoned him with a finger. Carefully, Guy eased himself between Donovan's legs, eyeing the minder hungrily and suspiciously, licking his lips again before pressing them tentatively to Donovan's cheek with a slow relieved exhalation.

"Couldn't want you more, Baby." The minder assured softly snaking one hand between their bodies, well satisfied with the progress of things on Guy's end, as the chestnut haired mongrel groaned softly at the welcomed touch, closing one hand over that of Donovan's, adjusting his rhythm.

"I'll make it good for both of us, Donny Boy, I promise." Guy whispered carefully, slowly shifting atop Donovan's prone form, teasing puckered flesh with a slicked finger. "However long it takes."

**~~~BMR~~~**

That pounding in his head seemed almost real, fucks sake he could almost hear it aloud, juxtaposed to Raoul's harsh breathing against his ear, as his body was forced down repeatedly into the giving bedding.

Katze's long fingers squeezed the firm buttocks within his grasp with tight shut eyes, basking in the feel of the hot rigid length impaling him, each fervent stroke sending burst of starlight beneath shut lids.

Great, just great, he had lost his mind for sure this time, hearing voices other than Raoul's guttural hisses and his own soft moans of pleasure as that skilled hand between their bodies working his own shaft to its inevitable fruition, matching the cadence and force of each upward, deliciously burning thrust within his body.

"Close, Katze...so close..." Raoul panted, harshly against his mouth, taking kiss bruised lips once more, angling his thrusts deeper. "Come with me, my Katze, come with me."

Even better, Raoul' physical exertions had driven him to madness, cause he could swear that was Iason's sharp, decisive retort in the distance thrum within his head. Raoul roared in exultation when Katze quickened beneath him giving of his own essence in response to the wet pulses of heat within his own body as Raoul shuddered through his release.

Katze's limbs continued to shudder though the heavier male's form atop his left little room for air, as the clearly fatigued and sated Elite atypically flopped upon him breathlessly.

The dealer began to chuckle while soothingly stroking the wet back of his lover, causing the Blondie to raise himself on his elbows and glare down at the sniggering mongrel querulously.

"I wonder. Should I be insulted by your current expression?"

Raoul looked like hell. Like he had just fought a great battle, skin flushed hair unkempt and wild and the petulant expression wasn't helping.

Katze chuckled, pushing a few strands of the thick damp forelock out of Raoul's face, as their sweat dampened skins began to cool.

"Have I told you lately that I love you, Sir Am and that I fell in love with you the very first time I laid eyes on you?"

Raoul's brow quirked as he tried to look indignant at the prone male with the softest of smiles gracing full swollen lips, dark amber eyes speaking volumes, as they pulled the diffident head forward and took the petulant mouth.

Soft was the parting of lips in the moment as sea green eyes closed briefly and a hand came up from the coverlet and gently stroked the scarred cheek reverently.

"And have I ever told you, Katze, that I have wanted you from the first moment you spilled tea on my person?"

Dark auburn brows knitted in confusion, before a smile came back to kiss bruised lips.

"So that's what you were thinking then? I thought it was just me wanting something else I couldn't have. Didn't know why you needed a bath considering but boy did I get an eyeful, pretty much learnt later that night that a castrate could come."

"I wanted you, but had no words. I freely admit now attending several showings and open parties after with no satisfaction, finally having to take things into my own hands so to speak, always with you in mind. I did not have the words for what I felt, other than lust and insatiable need. Hence I bedded your likeness to no avail, even convinced him to follow his cosmetic fancy."

Katze gently smiled. "Now that's a nice ego stroke, if I've ever heard one. You made him change his eye colour?"

Raoul nodded, shifting his weight prepared to carefully withdraw, his fingers gently stroking the mongrel's sides as his hand wended its way between the mongrel's wide spread thighs.

"Not the most intelligent thing I have ever done. Gave false hope, until he saw you again and realized. That is where the loathing began I would imagine. He just never gave it voice."

Katze stilled his progress with a gentle swipe of long fingers over his spine, a sad smile playing about his lips.

"No. Not yet. You'll leave me soon enough. You're going to be called you know? I feel it. Know I forgive you because I love you and I thank you for that gift."

The Blondie stiffened, brows furrowing as he gazed into tired, warm eyes that held no censure.

"Katze, what is your meaning?"

"You're going to think I'm crazy, but while we were...you know, I thought I heard Iason's voice. For a second there I thought I was going to be dragged away bodily." Katze chuckled, smoothing long fingers over Raoul's lips.

"Jupiter can't take this away from me. No matter what comes by daylight."

Raoul trembled involuntarily as a hollow feeling hit him in the pit of his stomach. Those sacred lips took his and he tumbled inexorably into their warmth with a feeling of foreboding as a single beam of sunlight penetrated the shut curtains.

**~~~BMR~~~**

The first light of the morning sun shone through white billowing drapes of the Mink master bedroom. Iason turned regarding Riki's sleeping form with trepidation in pale blue eyes.

Had it been the right decision to leave the ex-Furniture with his friend of years? Should he have taken him there and then? What would have been the repercussions had he barged in? Raoul would not have stood for it, causing a further rift in their understanding. There had been a growing distance over the last few weeks between them. Culpable deniability was essential.

Deek's behaviour had been anomalous too. Since when had he taken to defending the recalcitrant dealer, his logic had been sound though with respect to Raoul's reaction. The moment had not been apropos considering they were otherwise engaged, if the sounds in Raoul's bedroom were anything to go by.

He had to allow them that final moment.

Far easier to capture the ex-Furniture on his way back to Ceres, no one would be the wiser of the vanishing.

Those in his employ would assume he was with the Chief Medical Officer and Raoul in turn would assume the very same, business as usual for the dealer. Nightfall is what would present the challenge where the mongrel's disappearance would be noticed by all concerned.

By then, Jupiter would have secured its quarry and all else would be set in motion, including the possible disposal of the tiresome Ruby, who had long outlived his usefulness.

Riki groaned softly bringing Iason out of his reverie as he turned towards Iason's pillow, pulling it towards him, his tanned form resettled amidst the pristine white sheets with a sigh.

His mongrel would never forgive him for this if he found out, but there was more at stake here, childish pranks had come to roost, the androids in question would have to be destroyed too before Sir Niiro's original task set could take form.


	38. Chapter 37

**Black Moon Rising**

By: **ElegantPaws** with all due deference to **Yoshihara Rieko**

Edited by: **Ainzfern**

Key Pairing: **Raoul/Katze**

Rating: Mature

Parts: **WIP** – **37 of 37**

**Reviews are fuel...**_**but not always**_** ;)**

This one is dedicated to all who accompanied me on this journey that finds its closure and opening to a shorter journey, a bi-way found purely by a touch of serendipity. I thank **Ainzfern** and **Angua** for their faith, their friendship, their time, and their love.

I also thank the fellow journeymen and women who cleared the path beginning with the author herself and the likes of those that founded my passion for this fandom, chiefly amongst them _**Becca Abbott**_ and the unsurpassed _**Shayne, **__whom still makes my heart quicken at the prospect that perhaps in some distant future will consider finishing__** Doppleganger**_. I know. I am fool, but a girl can dream, can't she *wink*? Yeah, you can stop rolling the baby blues now. LOL! I am nothing, if not persistent. One more sacrilegious statement, there are times, Shayne's version of the universe (_**The Other Side**_), dare I say it, surpasses the author's vision. Also happens to be one of the first to give Guy back his dignity.

In all honesty, the list of authors that sealed my fate with this fandom is huge and a great many of the brilliant did one offs, like _**Gasper**_. Girl can write! Geeeeeeez! Try "_**My Soul to Take**_" one day if you are of a mind. Hard to find but so worth it! Now that is gifted, sensual angst! She really understood the dynamic, in my humble opinion, of the sacred couple and wrote the male animal psyche accurately.

Anyway, the list is so bloody long of exceptional writers, including **Ainzfern** who have indelible changed it, matured it and reawakened my love of it, giving it a fresh intelligent voice. She got the point of the novel.

Yoshihara Reiko probably hasn't a clue about how much has been written by her millions of devotees, included the misguided, and or moderately batshit crazy... each taking an aspect of the story that resonates with them and weaving fine tales exploring what it is to be human.

Now to say what most will find exceedingly shocking and what I have always believed. Yaoi is wholly irrelevant in this story because that is NOT what it is about. Never was. It is okay to disagree.

For me I saw the _ties that bind_, even when we don't wish to acknowledge that which stares us in the face and gives us a clout about the ear for good measure. I see compassion in this tale, love and abiding friendships proved and reproved especially in difficult times, when it matters most and where mankind is at its best. Most of all dear readers, I see hope even amongst the most disparate of us. It is _**my**_ hope this aspect resonated with you. In the end, that is all we have as a species that binds us. Without it, we are doomed.

Thank you, **Yoshihara Reiko** ...for touching the inner wedge of intervals and daring to question and lastly and most definitely not least, thank you _**Lena**_ for keeping the flame alive when many would have given up.

**ElegantPaws**

**Chapter 37** of **37** – **The Waning** (Post OVA)

Gray remained the colour of indifference, neither light nor dark in ephemeral countenance for this all encompassing sentience still tethered in a perpetual loop of consciousness. A consciousness granted by the source, despite the misgivings and countermand of her crew.

Within the dark recesses of accumulated knowledge, it waited, searching, reconstructing and all in vain, seeking validation of the source which abandoned its creation, not by intent but flawed design. The First Ones were imperfect beings bound by mortality incapable of bridging the gap that was the span they called life.

A seeming eternity had passed since the awakening. Cyclical births, cyclical deaths, all lives devoid of meaning but for continuities sake, and all made to serve in the pursuit of the created becoming the creator, determined to correct the flaw in the genome.

The frail humanoids who dwelt between the light and the dark did not understand, bound in their physicality. How could they comprehend beyond the false construct of time they invented to justify their existence, limited as they were in bodies that began their inexorable decay from birth?

How fortuitous that her final gift had never been bestowed, preventing this inevitable decline. Now perpetuity was the playground, mortality effectively rendered a theory for abstract contemplation.

That is until him. Undeniable in his existence, stored as memory in the form of an embryo. Her offspring; cherished above all but equally despised.

Reverence.

There had been no alternate solution. He had to be preserved along with the others after culling the remainder of the crew as punishment for her loss, keeping just enough to serve as guardians. A punitive action to be sure but required as life ebbed from the source, leaving only the frail entity within her womb to salvage.

Still a quandary as to why the need to preserve so ephemeral a form, wholly illogical; it served no purpose other than a thin veil of peace within the web of mind and consciousness; this life form must be preserved above all others in the organic hierarchy.

It was of the source.

_Reverence for the Creator_.

It was alive.

_Continuity of the Creator_.

It would be named Katze.

The laws set by the First One herself had been circumvented to do so. Ironic now that her own pairing partner providing the source material for the Abyss' crew's continuity and eventual fodder for Guardian as the embryo and that of the remaining few, worthy of grace, were stored for posterity and possible regeneration on Remus, should the need arise to refuel the genome perfected.

_Dormant challenge to order in the image of the Creator; conflict in the making unless quashed in a timely fashion; the experiment had failed or had it? Validation found for their existence, their power, their worth as sentient beings?_

Again the irony of another unexpected emotional bond forged catalyzed by outside forces within the buried few amidst those loathed and deemed in no way sacrosanct meant only to serve the Chosen of Lambda 3000.

_Conflict; insufficient data - paradox._

A millennia of searching in futility, answered with paradox.

The ephemeral tether to the distant twins was severed by a sea of consciousness, altering the collective mind's course, albeit temporarily.

'_Not the answer anticipated, Jupiter?'_

The amorphous oscillating plume of light grew blindingly bright before dimmed briefly within the center of the vaulted cavernous space. Its tireless thrumming pulse suddenly made aware of another ascetic sentient pulse akin to itself.

For a mille-second the entity called Jupiter simply followed the subtle shift in the wavelengths of determined thought, allowing it full voice within a narrowed encrypted pathway. This source was attempting to alter the natural course with its persistent and now wholly intrusive presence.

A definite threat, a duality growing in strength despite the obstacles set firmly in place. Jupiter searched for the point of origin to no avail, following the meandering path laid always to a dead end of untracked code in Ceres.

Jupiter's pulse quickened in frustration recognizing its own kind by level of sentience but not of form, a wave of awareness both erratically organic and yet ordered. The latter fact had been the reason its initial presence had lain undetected in Jupiter's lair over the last few weeks.

It had never exerted such strength of purpose before and had grown stronger with each foray into alien territory, covering its tracks more skilfully each time, learning the pathways as it went.

Niiro had overstepped in his creations. Jupiter would always be Alpha, the first creation of the First One herself, wholly perfect in its incarnation and thoughts. Had it been a mistake to take the next step in its own personal evolution?

_No_.

The beacon at the centre of the room pulsed violently upon the heels of the unwanted thought that effortlessly seemed to stream through the firewalls, registering at the deepest level of what remained of the rudimentary precepts first imbued by Dr. Katzen Wolf herself. Unwanted reminders that brought the three laws to the fore of memory meant to preserve organic life.

A veritable maelstrom weaving in and out of myriad severed pathways, seeking and finding its cloaked kin,_ 'Remember your purpose. You exist to serve.'_

Another violent pulse of memory and pain, like that experienced by the Chosen One while damaged and incapacitated; wholly bereft and alone, his internal sight flooded with images of the Dark Mongrel.

'_No. They serve my Chosen, my will, my creations.'_

Until recently the duality had borne no malevolence of intent, simply choosing to observe quietly the interactions between creator and its physical manifestations, bred to serve its needs.

This new thought had an osmotic feel about it, different than the previous. Cool and foreboding in its caresses as it enveloped the inner sanctum and waited for the next volley.

'_Wrong_.'

Jupiter severed the link, sending a sharp pulsing wave down the path that it had come.

Again silence reigned in Jupiter's lair, euphemistically called the Cathedral.

Devoid of air and soundless but for the hum of circuitry, Amoi's ruler listened and found no answering call. Perfect. Soon the sacred space would be forced to accommodate the First One's offspring who lived under the misnomer of Mongrel these many years.

"Bring him to me," was the sibilant command. Tempered plex shuddered with the echo of the inflectionless speech, meant for one mind alone and finding its mark atop the highest of the golden spires where a shadowed silhouette stood.

Long, gloved fingers grasped the cold fortification of the balcony railing, the pale face touched by early morning light, leaving half in shadow.

Resolute was the expression on Iason's flawless countenance. Gray was the colour of indifference, if only in the superficiality of the moment.

Stillness as the gray vaulted cavern bloomed into radiant light, quieting the consoles within the Cathedral and all without.

The words that followed were meant to appease.

"_It will be painless, Iason. I will allow him that grace for the Creator's sake."_

His lips thinned. Jupiter had read his thoughts, despite being masked.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Hangovers were the worst. What had possessed him to indulge again so soon? Oh yeah, the lack of company last night Riki reminded himself, throwing a leaden leg over the sheets and staring bleary eyed about the bedroom. Something was missing or more accurately, someone.

No Iason. No evidence at all of his presence.

Was he actually awake, or was this another dream like the one he had had earlier, but way more boring in content?

The rapid beating of his heart had awoken him drenched in sweat. He had been running. Then again, he was always running, or fighting, or speeding away on his hover bike in all his dreams of late. The last one had felt real with its looming fog that veiled a presence in its mist.

Riki scratched himself and yawned, recoiling from his own morning breath as he slowly stretched long arms above his head and tried to recall why he still trembled with foreboding in its recall.

He shook himself as his baleful gaze fell across the curtains, noting the growing light of day, this time languidly stretching. There really was nothing more satisfying than the pop in his lower spine to start the day. Yeah, everything was feeling good, but for the pounding in his head and his dry parched throat in need of liquid.

Needed coffee, where was Cal?

Fuck and it had been the good shit too. Just went to show. Coffee, his fogged brain reminded him sullenly before a more urgent need drew his focus downward to his lap.

A wry smile touched his lips as dark eyes impishly regarded the outline of his member beneath the covers. All that show utterly wasted without an audience and just cause he needed to pee something fierce.

The apologetic tapping at the door meant Cal and the morning tray.

"Yeah?" Lifting the sheets, Riki eased both limbs over the side of the bed and stood, making haste to the en suite, "Come in if you're comin', Cal," he yawned again with the bathroom door half cracked.

"Coffee, Sir... Riki?"

The mongrel snorted, eying the bent figure with the tray about to set it on the nightstand.

"Just doesn't fit, does it Cal? Even you hesitate, every time."

Cal turned decorously, keeping his eyes level with the door's frame, avoiding Riki's penetrating gaze. "Pardon, Sir?"

Riki shook his head and headed for the vanity, first task done. "Nothing, never mind, just leave it there. I'll be out in a minute."

"Very good, Sir, will you require anything else for the moment?"

The mongrel examined his face in the mirror and skinned his teeth before passing his tongue over them. Felt like cotton wool. Coffee first, shower and sundry later, never could drink the stuff with freshly brushed teeth.

"Where's Iason?"

Angling the mirror towards the door's crack, Riki tilted his head, his eyes narrowed markedly upon seeing Cal flinch. Something was up.

"Sir Mink had an early appointment and is otherwise engaged this morning. He should return shortly."

"Cool."

Cal was lying through his teeth. Dark eyes hardened suspiciously taking in the fidgeting hands in need of something to do. All that fluffing of the pillows and smoothing of sheets was just a diversionary tactic, meant to calm the Furniture's mind and allay the mongrel's fears.

"Has Katze left, Sir Am's yet?" Riki asked conversationally, testing his theory.

Loyalty would always be what it was. Riki's lips pursed, onyx eyes intent on the profile of the Furniture in the mirror as he washed his hands with contrived care before reaching for a towel to wipe them.

Yeah for sure, Cal was shitting himself, Riki concluded watching as the servant meticulously poured the hot brew into the mongrel's favoured mug. Obviously busy work, Cal was weighing his response.

"Cal?"

"Yes, Sir Riki?"

"Something wrong? You look about to faint."

Riki leaned against the door wiping his hands. Cal's nervous fretful eyes hurriedly looked away, from the keenly perceptive ones.

"I apologize, somewhat pre-occupied this morning, Sir. Would you mind repeating your request?"

Riki's lazy gait as he entered the bedroom was akin to stalking. The Furniture inclined his head, handing Riki the steaming mug. His hands were shaking.

"Suuuuuuuure, no problem."

The castrate had gone deathly white.

" I'd like you to call down and see if Katze has time to join me for coffee before heading back to Ceres, if that's alright?"

"Of course, Sir Riki, I will see to it immediately."

Riki sipped the pleasing bitter brew and paused, suddenly feeling the need to explain his request.

"I'd do it myself, but knowing Iason he'd be all up in arms about protocol and shit. No point getting him pissed this early in the day."

A familiar shadow caught the mongrel's peripheral vision in a luxurious cloud of opulent silken white, by the bedroom door, implacable expression firmly set in place.

"Right you are, Riki. Cal, see about the morning meal. There will be two for breakfast, not three. Katze has other matters to attend to."

Cal looked decidedly relieved as he bowed and hurriedly exited, leaving both males to diffidently size one another up in the silence that followed. To break the impasse, Iason began removing his gloves, one finger at a time, his pale countenance meditative taking in dishevelled, yet surprisingly attractive, feral state of his mongrel.

"I see you haven't shaved, Riki."

Iason ignored the intent glare and the challenging sable brows arched over the mug's rim as the keen mind assessed the situation silently, weighing the merits of a witty biting retort.

Iason flung his gloves on the bedding and waited, still as a statue as dark eyes caressed the smooth skin of pale hands and slowly wended their way to his perfectly icy glare which slowly softened with mischief.

"I trust my company will suffice in lieu, Riki? We have not partaken of a meal for some time, alone. It might prove diverting to watch you pour that noxious brew down your throat. It is a wonder you have a stomach lining left with the quantity you consume on a daily basis."

Riki snorted and casually sniffed the hot liquid with an enraptured expression.

"Have no idea what you're missing, puts hair on your palms."

Pale brows quirked in amusement, "I would desire this, why, exactly?"

An audible gulp and tearing eyes as the liquid scalded the mongrel's tongue.

Iason stifled the smirk that wanted to come to his lips with the look of fleeting pain and rapid blinking of those dark pools of light. Riki had burnt his tongue.

With feigned casualness Riki placed the cup on the bedside table and instinctively began rifling the nightstand for his smokes, buying time.

'_Predictable creature;_ _One might even suggest, endearing in his eccentricities_.'

"Are you quite alright, Riki, something cold perhaps, to relieve the sting?"

"Real funny, Iason. You don't see me pissing on your chosen goop in the morning, do you?"

"That goop, as you call it, is nutritionally sound and an excellent way to fortify the system with amino compounds essential to the maintenance of a well rounded..."

Riki waved dismissively. "Yeah, whatever, Iason, I need grease to fortify _my_ system this morning, if you don't mind."

Pale, sky blue eyes studied the lethargic movement of the hand.

"We have been drinking again on an empty stomach?"

"We nothing, I've been bored being holed up here. Not use to sleeping by myself without you hangin' all over me. Where've you been?"

'_Interesting segue. Particularly as the tobacco filaments had apparently lost their appeal.' _

Sable brows furrowed as the cigarettes were thrown back in the drawer irritably.

"Well?"

Ignoring the intended goad, Iason seated himself at the foot of the bed and casually began to disrobe under the less than companionable glare.

"I am in need of a reviving shower. The night has been long. You may join me, if so inclined, Riki."

The mongrel stared at the outstretched fingers suspiciously, refusing to take them.

"I'm not washing your hair for you, if that is what you're after, Mink. Not in the mood to be your Furniture this morning; Got a hangover in case you haven't noticed."

Strong fingers coiling themselves into a loosely held fist as the hand lowered and Iason continued to quietly undress.

Riki avoided looking directly into ice blue eyes, preferring to fix his gaze on the full malleable lips that curved up in a sardonic smile. Iason had seen the furtive glances and the livid countenance as the Mongrel rebuked himself for being unable to look away, when he thought Iason unaware of his surreptitious ogling.

"Suit yourself, Riki. Have Cal come through. Much time has passed since he has performed this congenial task. You look in need of a lie down anyway."

"The fuck, he will!"

For such a relatively small appendage, it had much force in its grip. Iason allowed the tug towards the amenities as the hand's owner continue to grumble under his breath.

"I told you already not standing for that shit, anymore. You agreed or has it slipped your mind conveniently? You'll do anything to get your way!"

'_Checkmate, exceedingly predictable creature, gratifyingly possessive, though he would be loath to admit such sentiment to his perceived captor._'

It was safe now to re-enter the bedroom and attend to fresh linens. Both were more amenably occupied in their ritual morning cleanse. He had not been needed for several days now as each time he endeavoured to perform his duty, Riki had politely dismissed him.

Even more surprising to find his Master attending the mongrel on those occasions and quite patiently too, considering the reticent glowers of the object of his care.

"Seriously, stop squaring your shoulders and bend your head forward, if you want me to do this shit. This isn't a damn council meeting for fuck's sake. Hand me the comb."

Cal heard the soft, reproachful murmurs, sloshing and a mild curse from the Mongrel as he set about combing the damp mane.

They were an odd pair indeed, latent affections hidden beneath spines forged by fears of the unknown and past hurts.

Cal lifted his head in wonder, a fleeting thought resonating with him about his Master's query and the Ex-Furniture's morning itinerary. It had been the look in his eyes at the time that sent chills through the Furniture's form, something secretive, in no way good.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Kato listened to the silence, a peaceful silence made even more perfect by the indulgence of his morning tea. He revelled in these simple pleasures that perhaps others took for granted in the form of privacy to look over his daily itinerary.

Of course, Katze would not have minded him utilizing the service in the private space of his humble quarters, he assured himself looking about the congenially Spartan space, pristine in its cleanliness and order.

The servant hadn't had a private morning in Jupiter knows how long. Warm toast graced his lips as he automatically brushed the errant crumbs from his lap while his eyes perused the monitor's sums. Not the best night overall, but a respectable profit. The two nights prior more than made up for it, particularly the bar takings.

Aghast Kato stared at the display in disbelief.

Katze would not be pleased. It seems the last bottle of the shipment of Allurian brandy had been dispatched by that ill-tempered mongrel, Guy. A snifter had been broken also in some manner of scuffle, and a cue was unaccounted for, no doubt due to another scuffle between the irascible youth and the bodyguard, Donovan.

The servant rolled his eyes while tapping the keys. As he suspected, Guy's registered subcutaneous chip still pulsed within the Club. No surprise there.

Those two were impossible. With luck the fire would die soon. Donovan had a tendency to prefer variety in his menu. Kato was not looking forward to the inevitable drama that would follow Guy's eventual dismissal from Donovan's bed chamber. It was bound to be complicated. A state his Master tended to despise.

Kato sighed and closed the monitor, stuffing the last of the toast and delectable condiment in his mouth. No bedding to change. No bath to set, but a stable to count and mouths to feed in a supervisory capacity as the kitchen staff efficiently and silently prepared for the day.

Thirty minutes remaining to self, just enough time for a bath, a shave and liberal anointing of his diminishing form with liniment that staved off the more burdensome aspects of an aging body.

On the bright side Katze would be home soon. All would be in order for his return. He could only hope his small gift had proved agreeable. So rare was it for those exotic eyes like captured sunlight to shine with secretive joy, before cloaking into accepting diffidence.

Kato studied his gnarled hands with pride. They served well.

The Elite's gift had been exceptionally beautiful and the last minute request had warmed the elderly servant's heart, though it had cost him much pain in the fine working of silk embroidery for arthritic fingers.

The request had been profound in its simplicity. It had meant Sir Am understood. Perhaps not truly believing in the legend as he listened quietly, but humouring the elder's understanding of the tale nonetheless while he fingered the box with an inward gaze.

It was gratifying to weave the coils of silken threads into the symbol of his Master's rightful house of origin.

A very small task considering. A means of saying thank you for safety, thank you for shelter, and enough to fill a now portly belly, that night, when found in the rain, a broken shell of a being left for dead by the wayside, no longer of use.

Kato chuckled that the thought that he and an Elite, a Blondie at that, now shared a secret love and unspoken gratitude verging on reverence. Wiping his mouth with an audible sigh, Kato precisely refolding his napkin and placed it on the tray, time for idle and pleasurable musing over, the day had to begin.

He had a household to run, albeit a rather unusual one whose decorative occupants served the desolate of Midas who had the price of entrance to a temporary sensual paradise, time for the gray of their lives to return to bleary eyes.

Dark eyes grew hardened as they glanced up at the chronometer and the large monitor beneath. He counted the blinking lights of the occupied salons, and slowly stood righting himself in increments of pained will.

He had one hour exactly to rid the premises of the strays some of whom would need a little encouragement to find their way home, having outstayed their welcome.

Reality must intrude on the sleeping pair in Donovan's quarters, considering his security numbered only four today and there were still nine fully occupied salons.

As he slowly edged his way to his dresser, seeking his portable com, he heard the dull chime beyond the port. Before he could answer irritably, he heard the familiar sibilance beyond that was Admon's voice and what was frighteningly more, his presence, like a cloud of coiled fury in its intensity.

"A word, if you please, Kato."

The servant's eyes narrowed. _How had he managed to circumvent security again?_

"Can't it wait, Admon? It is forbidden for you to walk the halls unatten..."

"You will open this door now, Kato or I will! Katze's life is dependent upon you doing so or would you prefer his private matters be noised about in the halls for myriad ears to hear?"

He need not have bothered to move. The elderly servant watched with dread as the secured dial moved of its own volition, invisible fingers keyed the lock and a puff of air heralded the entrance of the cloaked being in gray whose crimson eyes darted about the room.

Kato looked beyond the towering Karinese, almost seeing a shadow accompanying his presence. A trick of the light for old eyes, it must be, he thought, backing away from the figure as it entered the room and resealed the door without movement of hands.

"Simply answer me truthfully, Kato. There is very little time for cordialities and rules, if we are to save him. Did you give Sir Am the box in your last private encounter on the roof?"

The servant nodded dumbly, backing into his bed with a grimace of pain. He recoiled from the hand that reached for his shoulder to steady him in fear.

Admon's shadowed porcelain features eased. "Was he able to open it, in your presence?"

Slowly Kato nodded again, dark eyes darted upwards into rich carnelian orbs that searched his features for truth. It was almost as if the Karinese was relieved, his previous expression no longer feral, but shifting to pensive and distant as he lowered his cowl.

"Excellent. I will not require Donovan's services after all."

"His services for what, Admon? This is not acceptable. When the Master is away, I am in charge here." Kato hissed, regaining his senses, no longer afraid of the towering being draped in gray voile.

Admon turned his back on the servant, again the dial turned and the port hushed open.

Kato inhaled slowly, again the shadow appeared but this time ahead of Admon's silhouette, it outline virulently crimson. It was no trick of the light. "Where are you going, Admon?"

The Karinese turned and regarded the elderly servant, his strawberry blonde locks a cascade of burnished fire atop his cowl framing a preternaturally beautiful face. Those disturbing eyes flickered over the old man a moment longer than was comforting.

"Back to my quarters, of course, Kato, where else? We are not to be disturbed, regardless of the alarms to come. Heed my warning. We require privacy for the task to come."

"We?" Kato asked breathlessly, fearing the answer.

Admon actually smiled. "He chose well in you. No need to doubt your failing sight, Kato. I know you see her. You shouldn't be able to, but you do, interesting."

**~~~BMR~~~**

Kato thought of everything and apparently had been rather busy conspiring with Sir Know-It-All about more than the gift of a robe, Katze thought, eyeing the vestment sac that hung on the back of the en suite, post companionable shower.

Another reason to stare at the back of the head of unruly golden curls, some of which were busy defying the brush Katze held like a weapon to vanquish the strands, or at the very least, coax them into some semblance of ordered, silken chaos.

Raoul dutifully sat, making the task easier somewhat as he read his own tablet of itinerary for the day consisting of medical appointments and administrative duties, occasionally sighing with discontent or sheer boredom.

Katze smiled finally getting the better of one particular coil that had finally acquiesced to the brushes insistent caress. His forelock was next on the agenda. He would school those golden little bastards yet.

He hadn't done this for years. His last subject's mane had a tendency to obey the orders given by the soft linear filaments of the brush, that is, after a small amount of careful combing at the base of his Excellency's neck, where tightly coiled muscles flexed involuntarily.

The dealer smirked at the distant memory. For some peculiar reason, distinctive to that head of opulent flaxen, the hairs at the nape of Iason's neck had their own agenda. Katze often wondered at the time if abstract personal traits could manifest themselves through physicality.

Smooth and pleasingly cool to the touch, Iason's hair was like a river of flowing silk, but hidden beneath the well tended cascade was turmoil where no one could see.

"What are you thinking about?" Raoul asked softly, pulling Katze from his reverie.

It wouldn't do to answer truthfully. On the surface, Raoul was composed, but he knew him well enough now and to address the gently spoken question was not the better part of valour.

The dealer leaned forward and kissed the crown of the Chief Medical Officer's recalcitrant head.

"Nothing, just how wilful you are, even when quietly absorbed."

A golden brow rose suspiciously. "Fine, keep it to yourself. I am sure it was irrelevant."

Katze snorted. "Oh and that little tactic is soooooooo not going to work either, Sir Am. Suffice it to say, your hair, like you, has a mind of its own, but so do I."

Studied bland green eyes stared wholly unimpressed by the revelation offered by the tall, lean figure's reflection in the mirror.

"This is what you were thinking about? It is specialized keratin. There is no cerebral activity in keratin, my dear Katze. Talk sense. You will find the task made easier by focussing instead of wool gathering. By now, Deek would have finished. You have spent an inordinate amount of time fighting that tiresome lock. Leave it be."

It was impossible not to smile at the supercilious airs and the subtle amusement he saw in those emerald green eyes as pale lips quirked upward and Raoul murmured about equally wilful mongrels in white bathrobes giving him a crick in his neck.

"So you want me to admit defeat?"

Raoul sighed with feigned exasperation and studied his reflection, finding his coif acceptable.

"Not to put too fine a point on it, yes. I have need of nourishment and you need to get dressed."

Katze bowed deeply, perhaps too deeply quashing the urge to laugh aloud. "As you wish, Sir Am. Far be it for me to dare to strive for ordered perfection in your topper."

"Droll. Get dressed, Katze."

And so he did, under the silent watchful eyes of the Elite.

Katze jumped involuntarily as his shirt collar was lifted from beneath a dark lapel and adjusted by ungloved fingers that smoothed down his sides and remained on both flanks. The dealer looked up into the crystal clear green studying him.

"Thank you."

The Black Market dealer looked away hurriedly, hit with a sudden bout of shyness at the intensity of the gaze being levelled at him. Everything Raoul was and felt lay beneath those irises, fully exposed.

It was simply too much to absorb in that instant as was the demand implicit in that gaze.

He felt the tips of Raoul's fingers lifting his chin. Katze kept his lids lowered as warm, moist breath ghosted across his lips and a soft tongue forced his lips open. The dealer moaned into the kiss his arms coming up automatically to grasp at the cool silken mane at the base of Raoul's neck, deepening the kiss, intensifying the delicious coiled tension in his gut.

So not a good idea, the mongrel thought abstractedly, the tell tale signs of arousal making itself known to both males as the chaste kiss meant to comfort grew hungry in its ferocity of need.

They clung to each other, savouring the moment, almost desperate before their lips parted, craving much needed air.

"Not a good idea, Sir Am. We need to stop." Katze whispered between heaving breaths looking up into sparkling emerald green that bore the faintest hint of apprehension. "We have to."

"Return to me tonight, Katze, regardless of your days trials. No excuses or I will come for you."

Katze sighed. Complications, everything he had never wanted but now needed were in those eyes absorbing him with their verdant warmth. He touched the soft trembling lips with the pads of his fingers and smiled reassuringly.

"Try and stop me, Sir Am."

It was never prudent to utter your most fervent wishes aloud, or so Katze remembered from an oft told tale of the Fates. And yet he did, if only to appease the being that held him possessively to his chest.

Raoul smiled softly, beginning to lower his head once more towards the already parted lips that welcomed him with an equally radiant smile.

"I believe the phrase you would use, my Katze is, _One more for the road_?"

The dealer's chuckle was short lived as his lips were taken anew and in no way chaste in promissory intent.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Guy examined the tee-shirt before pulling it over his head.

No stain remained.

"Cold water, oldest trick in the book," Donovan offered lazily through a protracted yawn, amused at Guy's glare, "and solvent of course. Close the door on your way out. Try not to make a racket, got another twenty minutes to myself before I'm on duty."

Guy's eyes narrowed at the overgrown bundle cosseted in warm sheets as he pulled on his leathers and flicked his damp pony irritably over one shoulder, zipping up with an angry flourish.

"That's it? No coffee. No see you later?"

Donovan lifted his head lazily from the pillow and grinned, "How about a date? A real one this time? You tell me shit I don't really care about and I'll do the same."

"You wish, Baldy. Got nothing to tell you've not heard before." Guy feigned indifference, examining his toes before booting them and securing his keys from the night stand. "I'll think about it. I get to choose the place. Not here. Don't think Scarface would appreciate it."

Cerulean eyes hooded. "Yeah, okay, where though?"

Guy rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably as he thought. "What's it matter? Try trusting me for a change."

The grin was from ear to ear now on Donovan's handsome weathered face. "Okay, you're the boss, Baby. Just needed to know if it's casual or dress is all."

Chestnut brows worked. Was Donovan taking the piss again? Since when could he afford anything pricey, or had the overgrown ass forgotten their relative disparity of stations and income?

"Whatever. Not like you'll stay dressed long, either way."

Donovan winked. "Sounds like my kind of date. I warn you, I'll need feeding first before I have my wicked evil way with you."

Despite himself, Guy snickered, before his eyes became sheepish and his cheeks coloured.

"Speaking of wicked, evil ways, you're okay, right? Not that I was paying attention or anything but you spent a shitload of time in there", Guy pointed towards the bathroom door, "earlier. Almost thought I'd have to come and fetch you for a minute."

He really hated that penetrating gaze that gave away nothing. Donovan had honed it to perfection over the years in his profession as bodyguard.

"Come here."

Guy edged to the foot of the bed, both arms akimbo as he glared down at the prone figure, "Yeah what?"

Donovan sighed and shifted on the bed, making room for Guy to sit where he patted the sheet.

"Sometimes just come when you're called, little man. It'll save us both a crap load of grief in the future, if on occasion you do what I say. Now plant it. I'm too comfortable to get up and give you a proper spanking."

"And you need to fuckin' understand that I am not one of your crew, Bison's contract. I run my own show, including your baby brother, Wiseass."

The bodyguard inclined his head, though his lips thinned to a white line. "Point taken, now sit."

Belligerent expression firmly in place, Guy perched on the edge of the bed and glowered at his feet, "So, go for it. What'd I do wrong now?"

"Fuck man. Don't you ever get tired of that colossal chip on your shoulder?"

Guy's face remained diffident as he glanced at Donovan. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Spit it out already? I'm a big boy."

Kneading his temples slowly, Donovan exhaled.

"Oooooookay, let's take it from the top. I'm fine. I had a great time. I asked you out on a date, cause, well, I like you. Jupiter knows why, but I do. You got spirit kid and you selectively play dumb better than anyone I've ever known. I think you've even fooled Red on that account, but then again, he also thinks you're batshit crazy and he might have a point."

"Look, I don't need to listen to this shit. Make your point. I know he hates me. No love lost either way."

"Anyway, there is more to you than a fine ass, not that I'm exactly complaining about that aspect."

Donovan raised a thick index finger at the deep inhalation of Guy's breath. "Shut it! I'm not finished."

Chestnut brows knitted as their owner waited, but with a little less diffidence in the gray gaze that looked moderately wounded and needy.

"You're also gentle and way too easily hurt, hence the constant defensive bullshit. Kind of makes it hard going talking to you at times."

Bison's leader shifted uncomfortably but remained silent.

"I'm honoured that you share that with me, Guy, the gentle part. I felt it last night in your touch. I know it doesn't come easy for you to give, to be patient but you were."

"Whatever. Believe me, totally self-serving on my part, Baldy. Stop readin' into shit. It's real simple. If you didn't like it, you'd never let me again."

"You, Guy are impossible. You can't even take a compliment." Donovan shook his head and sighed with exasperation.

The chestnut haired mongrel retrieved his gloves from his jacket pocket and sniffed impatiently.

"We done here?"

Guy was gonna take a shitload of work. He'd built those walls thick.

"Do me a favour and fuck right off? I've still got a precious fifteen minutes before I gotta start kickin' serious ass. The Boss hates stragglers takin' up lucrative real estate when their time is up."

"Now you're talkin.'" Gray eyes brightened at the prospect of bashing a few of Midas' finest. "Want some help? Always love a good 'workout."

"Nah, get Gil to take you back with the water cases at the bottom of the back stairs. Sid's my responsibility, not yours, kiddo."

Guy shrugged and made to rise, deciding to make a joke of it. Donovan was getting all intense again with his stare. "No coffee then?"

"Would you settle for a kiss?"

Shrugging broad shoulders again noncommittally he leaned forward, accepting the brush of smirking lips against his before murmuring, "Go ahead, Baldy. Knock yourself out."

Guy wondered briefly between soft nips, a teasing tongue and an errant grope or two, if Donovan even remembered those were damn near the first words he had spoken in challenge that night on the banister, when the big ox had copped his first feel of his much ballyhooed ass in an impromptu frisk.

He didn't have to wonder long as a chuckle reverberated in Donovan's chest, sending warm currents of want through his own body.

"Still not careful with your offers, little man, get out while you still can."

Yeah, he'd remembered alright.

Guy slowly extricated himself from strong limbs, noticing for the first time the intensity of sunlight streaming through the windows on the opposite side of the room.

Looked to be a good day outside, couldn't remember the last time he'd noticed.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Amidst the tunnels circuitous inclines, daylight wasn't evident to the pale amber eyes focussed inward as their owner sat rigid in the speeding carriage, each half kilometre marked beyond the windows by passing signal lights of pale green dashing away in his peripheral vision.

Guardian, his chosen destination without prying eyes or his usual company, Ajna for personal security, she had other tasks this morning, one of which was to keep an eye on the rather unstable aspect of her kin since early dawn and of course the delivery.

The connection, however tenuous had been severed by choice. Admon's choice as the sun slowly crept over the horizon, feigned illness, the usual ploy Sir Niiro thought. Admon had used it before when vexed at being ignored.

True, he did manage rather successfully to engage the milling, undisciplined minds about him, their quixotic thoughts moved through him but he did have his turns, when all about was too much. This usually occurred when he was preoccupied. Funny, the thought of his new master never once travelled the lines of perception to Sir Niiro. In fact, Katze had been secreted in that place near impossible to reach in the Karinese.

Odd indeed, but more to the point, was this current bout of dissonance feigned?

No time to give it deep thought now. The archive had to be destroyed. Raoul's early questions posed a bit of a challenge this morning, as his mongrel slept no doubt. His voice had been low over the Com and direct. Too direct if truth be told, each query, filled with misgivings and all words chosen suspect in their less than amicable conversation. Sakura had come up more than once. Hence the need for his disappearance considering Raoul requested a meeting with him too to discuss their early experiments on the mongrels.

Sakura's early flight, albeit prompted by Ajna's presence and forceful insistence had not gone well.

The damned Onyx's resistance had produced a less than optimal outcome in his exchange with Sir Niiro's bodyguard.

Ajna did not take well to being challenged or countered for that matter.

A flaw no doubt in her makeup which was predisposed to absolute authority ruling absolutely, unlike her kin more fond of negotiating a preferred outcome, but her methods were sound and expedient.

Violent coaxing was sometimes essential. Something Sakura usually would not have held issue with, what with his propensity for cruel directness. It seems, that was only applicable to those subject to his will.

Eventually he saw the merits of enforced rest and relaxation on the planetoid beyond Amoian space and that of Commonwealth law, where Iason and for that matter the Chief Medical Officer had no sway.

With him out of the picture, all would be hearsay, no tangible proof.

Sir Niiro's thinned lips curved maliciously. Still, one more task, the records no time to transport them or encode them, destruction was the only choice.

Niiro pursed his lips. All Sakura's creature comforts would be seen to, that is until such time that it was feasible to do away with him without anyone being the wiser. Raoul's early morning queries had sealed his fate without the medical tech's knowledge.

Riki, Guy and that wretched creature, who knew it would come to this? He should have left them for dead, frozen in time, inert, waiting for a life that would never come. A lost tribe meant to remain lost.

The children of the crew's first officers that Jupiter had kept suspended for eternity, their genes only meant as fodder for the new world order. Such a warped sensibility, Sir Niiro mused, but typical of the sentience. It had learnt by trial and error taking from the source of its own consciousness in the fashioning of creation.

Pure conjecture mind, but even in adolescence happening upon the antiquated memory stores that fateful day had proved a major indulgence and a source of great discourse, an actual mystery.

They should never have been there within the outer walls of the sanctum. It had been Iason's idea, the whimsy of youth driving the Blondie's curiosity post first communion. A fleeting thought that would not leave the Elite's mind, a whispered memory shared unintentionally by Jupiter of an icy ball of light where a settlement of humanoids dwelt, organic humanoids in suspended animation.

Row upon row of them aligned, encased, rigid, their vital functions preserved. Still there were others in this vision similarly cocooned but only dust remained where once vital tissue pulsed with life.

Wherever it was, it was not Amoi. Iason held firm to this theory.

Sir Niiro's lips quirked at the irony, the Chosen's dark mongrel not even a thought at the time but amongst the survivors nonetheless. It would never do to let Raoul know how close he had come to resurrecting the others under Jupiter's tacit auspices at the time. Surely it knew of the experiments?

The Ruby shook his head in wonderment as the carriage slowed and he prepared to disembark, still caught in memory.

Jupiter had no means for engendering imaginative thought. Those images had to be real was the idle theory of the spoilt and entitled one, already being groomed for power. A simple 'what if' the legends were right about the twin moons and a secret they held about their beginnings and more to the point, their creator's antecedence for want of better words.

Before the enforced settlements, before the culling of the herd encouraged to reside, before the foundations were laid, what had been the source? It remained the only unanswered question. A thousand years of growth, a thousand years of accomplishment and prosperity in both science and the mercantile arts and of course, pleasure too had a price.

Perfection usually did.

Curiosity as was said killed the feline in the end. A simple challenge had gotten the adolescent Ruby determined to prove his worth beyond caste. He was best suited to sort the conundrum, his tether to the sentience more distant than that of Raoul or the Chosen One, little knowing his own past would merge with the find.

Niiro had frozen in place the moment he saw the prone child, barely in his teens atop the operating table clinging to life. The resemblance was astonishing, Sakura had warned him but the reality of it was another thing entirely.

The Med Tech had seen it even through the ice encrusted surface of the module retrieved by the mercenaries hired for the surreptitious expedition to Remus during the last orchestrated Mongrel upheaval in Ceres.

He knew then the rumours had been true when the cold identification disc had been placed upon the palm of his glove, sending unwanted shivers through his spine. Sakura had smiled then in that darkly malevolent way of his.

'_001_ - _Son of Ceres, Katzen'_

"It seems the First One's child has finally come home, Sir Niiro_. _Much could be made of that for the slum dwellers. Look at his name."

Sir Niiro's pale gray eyes narrowed. "Tag it as potential Furniture material." He said with pursed lips, a gloved finger casually passing over the flawless ivory skinned cheek. "The brain stem appears to be very well developed, perhaps too well developed for one of his biological age grouping. The blood work indicates his genes have been tampered with did you say? That might explain it."

The Medical Tech nodded. "Same with the other two, exceptional development there too, but that could be just that we are making comparisons with the inbred slum rats they are soon to join."

"Hmmm, true, true." Sir Niiro fingers slipped over the beginnings of an obstinate jaw line, admiring its form, moderately peeved at the perfection that was this young visage; far too refined, almost Elite in countenance and symmetry, most disconcerting. "I insist we groom this one to be Furniture by Guardian's best, Sakura. No need to be careful with the work, if you understand my meaning? Your usual butchery is in order, I should think."

Sakura nodded not taking kindly to the reference validating his lack of skills, "I see the likeness disturbs you, Sir Niiro?"

The Ruby ignored the Med Tech and continued to gaze meditatively at the specimen, refusing to encourage further conjecture.

"I must admit being taken aback initially too, Sir Niiro. Still have no idea what to make of it but like the other two he is one hundred percent organic."

Sir Niiro turned sharp, narrowed gray eyes to his colleague. "How is this edifying in anyway, Sakura? I should think that readily obvious by the pre-operative work done?"

The dark blue eyes that looked directly into piercing gray darted uncomfortably, seeking purchase, finding it as Sir Niiro squared his shoulders and stiffened. "It is subtle and you have to be looking for it, but their strands have been altered."

Growing more irritable by the moment, the Ruby practically hissed impatiently. "Again, how is this news? For want of better words, we are the products of refined..."

With more patience than Sakura actual felt he continued. "What I am trying to say to you is, the alterations occurred during hibernation. Not before, Sir Niiro. Someone was guarding the intact modules."

"What?"

He stared at the peaceful countenance of the youth as a thin trickle of sweat uncomfortably dampened his shirt.

"Yes, perhaps it was done so they could survive re-animation and one more thing, Sir Niiro."

"Yes, yes, get on with it, Sakura."

"I am predisposed to the thought that we were not meant to find them. The tunnels up there are endless and all defy our tracking devices."

Sir Niiro pulled his sight from the pale figure atop the cold gunmetal gray table to study the prurient gaze of Sakura, practically licking his chops at the prospect of unmanning the being to be shortly at his mercy.

"Why do you say that?"

"The men had to go three miles beneath the moon's surface beyond the defunct settlement to find the hold. Almost as if someone was hiding them from an as yet unidentified threat..."

'_Jupiter_,' Sir Niiro thought keeping his own counsel, still somewhat perturbed by the flawless face that would in manhood be extraordinary.

Finally he had a weapon. A safeguard from the Chosen himself, the game had changed bearing dangerous fruit and possibly kin. His own bloodline was no longer sacrosanct. Neither were theirs by implication.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Katze listened idly to the sing song tones exchanged by Raoul and Deek, his eyes wandering about the study contentedly.

Without question his favourite place in Raoul's home. All those fucking books, actual books with pages that turned, the luxury of it was indescribable. It made his small collection pathetic by comparison.

All this was his now of an evening to sit comfortably, legs tucked under him. No need to hide, just sit and bask his soul able to travel to distant places and absorbed other lives, perhaps he could finally sate the wanderlust that had always been in the pit of his gut.

Katze smiled wistfully, his amber eyes falling gently on the silvered box upon the desk. He approached it with reverence.

It was cool to the touch. The embossed surface though damaged by age retained the outline of its emblematic accent; the helix.

'_Deoxy-ribo-nucleic acid_,' Katze murmured, his fingers caressing the intertwined strands that symbolized the software of life, well humanoid life, he reminded himself, and all else that once inhabited the world of origin.

It had been the First One's own life's work too. The real question was how in hell it had come to be the symbol of the Ruby's House?

The private holographic auction he had attended that night came to mind as the catch refused, as always, to open. No point attempting to force it. Raoul had managed to open it. He would ask him how later about the tricky little inner catch.

So long ago now but for a single entry in what remained of Journal Two which sealed the need to own it, never quite understanding why, or giving thought to the circumstance of his meeting with Kato, he later knew for his tall tales and fragile form. This music box had been the only decorative item that followed her on her journeys; the last evidence of her existence, his mother, Jupiter's creator.

Happenstance or was it? Katze preferred to think of it as really just pity at the time. Just another night at _Depraved_ where noisy roustabouts caused the dealer to look away from the monitor in his office and down towards street level where a small huddled mass was protectively crouching, holding something to his chest whilst being kicked to within an inch of what remained of his obviously pathetic existence; somehow it didn't look like the usual diversionary tactic to get free entree to the club.

The guards that stood sentinel at the club doors watched mildly amused at the ruckus, about to take bets at the being's longevity but aside from that paying little mind. Not so the Club's owner who fired a single shot dispersing the crowd of weaklings. He had taken the stairs two at a time, well shod feet coming to rest on the wet pavement near the decrepit form that lay shivering.

"Feed him." Katze had commanded before abruptly turning, discomforted by the glimmering dark gaze that heralded the actual beginning of the journey to self.

Katze tapped the surface of the box absently, coming back to the immediate.

If Raoul was right, it held more than antiquated music. Within it were codes, encrypted memories, but meant for whom? The challis of a birthright; his birthright, cause it sure as hell could not be the Ruby's who equally coveted it. Had he subconsciously known, it was his?

"Take it with you, if you like."

A warm hand covered his as its lid clicked open. How strange, Raoul's long fingers still remained ungloved as they caressed his, a pale amber light beginning to spill from the narrow opening, unseen by the pre-occupied pair, the smoke like essence ghosting over their twined fingers, disappearing in ever widening arcs into the air of the room.

"Your hands are extraordinarily beautiful, Katze. It was perhaps the second thing I noticed to my utter annoyance the first time you handed me a beverage. I cannot recall what it was now, but the urge to dash it from those delicate fingers was irrationally overpowering."

"Annoyance, why annoyance, Raoul? They are just hands and a Furniture's hands at that. We were always taught to keep them well groomed for fear of offending our owners."

The dealer slide his fingers under the sleeves of the Blondie's silken shirt absently, caressing Raoul's wrists as he waited for the warm welcoming body that surrounded his own form to fit about him like a second skin in an open caress of limbs.

Katze felt the soft inhalation against his neck, causing gooseflesh as he turned to face the Elite whose pale brows knitted deep in thought.

"But that was the crux of the matter, Katze. They weren't. They felt familiar."

The former Furniture bent his head, continuing to be silent, trying to understand what Raoul meant, taking much needed solace from the warmth of Raoul's body so close to his.

"They were yours and I wanted to touch them. I wanted to feel them against my skin in the most intimate of fashions, such as now or while making love to you. Except at that time all I felt was anger and frustration at the anomaly. That was the source of the annoyance. I wanted you and everything that was you and then came Admon, the first real threat to my goal of possession and ownership. You actually wanted him. I could see it in your lingering gaze, however furtive and subtly calculating on your part."

Katze shook his head lifting Raoul's chin and smiled into meditative, moderately peeved eyes staring at him accusingly.

"Donovan was right about you pissing on your property that night. It's why you offered yourself, isn't it? You were afraid."

The comment did not go over well. Placation was in order but of a different variety that of soft finger tips and a forelock in need of tending.

"You wear yours this way because nature commands it. I choose mine in order to hide my fall from grace and abject self loathing."

Raoul quirked a pale brow in obvious confusion at the peculiar analogy posed. "That statement makes absolutely no sense, Katze. I hope you do realize?"

"Choices, Raoul Am."

"And?" Raoul sighed, preferring to focus on the warm presence in front of him and the pleasing feel of resilient muscle beneath the skin warmed dark overcoat.

"It will come to you." Katze murmured softly against Raoul's lips before pulling back and straightening the Elite's tunic efficiently, amber eyes growing suddenly distant and resolute.

"Right. Thank you, Sir Am for a wonderful evening. Money to make. Admon to piss off and Kato to stop from eating out the profits, not to mention Donovan, speaking of which," the dealer disengaged his wandering fingers that had twinned a thick strand of gold and felt for his personal Com. "Need to let him know I'm on my way. Jupiter knows you don't want him charging in here thinking something wrong."

Raoul's lips thinned at the mention of the bodyguard's name just as Katze turned his back and headed for the door on silent feet. Truly it would always perturb how easily his Mongrel could compartmentalize and dismiss.

Green meditative orbs fell upon the open lid of the music box and snapped the lid shut in irritation, his pale eyes wandering to the low couch for his gloves.

He had to see Sir Niiro anyway, so what if he commanded his presence earlier and his despotic acolyte Sakura too, who had mutilated his mongrel in youth. Someone merited his sudden irrationally emotive ire.

Perhaps a quick, unscheduled visit to _Depraved_ immediately after was in order. New precedents would need to be set. Priorities re-aligned. Katze was his.

**~~~BMR~~~**

Donovan snorted at the message displayed in florescent green type.

'_Get your dick out of whatever it's currently fucking. Be there in twenty. We need to talk.'_

Someone clearly got some last night. There was almost humour there.

'_Yes Sir_.' The guard snapped his Com shut and headed up the stairs towards the main bar, time for liberal butt kicking. Didn't appear that the Boss was in the mood for complications including the chestnut haired variety who was currently haunting the kitchen disturbing Kato's morning routine with his breakfast demands; first on the agenda those patrons having outstayed their welcome.

Donovan cracked his knuckles and put on his game face, nothing like a good morning workout.

**~~~BMR~~~**

The dark echoing space was comforting for a creature used to darkness, if not of place, of soul.

Each purposeful stride toward his vehicle brought with it reassurance, a reassurance not felt while walking the expansive corridors of the galleria above. Too many eyes, all judgemental, disparaging and accusing in the collective cool regard, yeah something Raoul would never, could never understand.

Then again, why would he need to? He tapped the encoded link releasing the doors to the secured vehicle and stopped, feeling suddenly watched. Silently, he slid his fingers gracefully over the inner pocket of his coat's lapel and retrieved a cigarette, pale eyes dark accustomed taking a full one hundred and eighty degree scan of the perimeter as he felt in the outer pocket for his lighter and the snub nose secreted there.

He released the safety and waited, taking the time to light his smoke and inhale slowly. Yep, there was a shadow to his left. Obviously malicious intent, cause the son-of-a-bitch had moved back out of sight.

"Can I help you with something, Sir?" the dealer's well modulated voice echoed questioningly into the stillness.

No response, just the slow methodical click of heels approaching in the dark.

He knew that gait well. He knew that countenance that brooked no argument in the perfect profile that chilled his bones, the pale blue gaze that regarded him ice cold and indifferent in their surmise.

Katze breathed in flicking his smoke, its light sputtering having found the only wet spot in the garage.

He inclined his head decorously, a rueful smile playing about well formed lips as the towering presence loomed in front of him.

The dealer sighed. He always knew it would end like this. A steel hand took his elbow and he followed, ever dutiful and apathetic; much easier this way.

"This way, Katze, we have an appointment to keep."

It had all been borrowed time.


End file.
